The Fifth Degree
by AJCrane
Summary: In Martial Arts once one earns a black sash, there are degrees that one can also earn. The fifth degree is a medical degree. If one learns to harm, then one must also learn to heal. A vision of death leads Kwai Chang Caine and his son to China to confront the past and a serial killer.
1. Prologue

The Fifth Degree

Prologue

The pain was excruciating, beyond anything he had ever experienced. It felt as if his heart was beating itself to death against his ribcage, trying to escape like a frightened butterfly in a jar. He had never felt such pain before in his life.

The man took in deep halting breaths, nearly causing himself to hyperventilate. Each breath he took did not relieve the growing anguish in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes were wide, the whites showing all around as fear grew within his dark orbs.

Then the screaming began. The man didn't even recognize the fact that it was his own voice. The man brought his hands to his head and his back arched off the table. Then he suddenly went limp, his eyes remaining fixed and open to the terror he had felt. His arms fell limp at his sides and blood ran from his slack open mouth.

The figure that stood above the now dead husk simply smiled then walked away.

Kwai Chang Caine was meditating when he felt his chest tighten. The pain was excruciating, and yet, he knew that it was not his own. In his mind he could see the heart of the person explode, blood filling the chest and spilling threw whatever opening it could find.

Caine groaned then slumped onto the floor, nearly unconscious. A few moments later, he tasted the bitter tea that poured threw his lips.

"Kwai Chang Caine, I felt your pain. What has happened?"

The Ancient's face came into focus.

With soft halting words Caine replied, "A man . . . has died. I felt his heart explode from within his chest."

"How is that possible?"

"I . . .. do not know."

"Where was this man?"

Caine shook his head. "I do not . . ."

"Do not say another word, my friend. We shall learn more of this, I am certain. Rest."

Kwai Chang Caine allowed the Ancient to help him lay back on the raised platform and place a round pillow under his head. Caine could see the look of deep concern was on the old man's face. Both asked the same question without needing to voice the words. What could cause a man's heart to suddenly explode? It made no sense. Caine's eyes drifted shut as the Ancient placed a blanket over him.

"Rest my friend. We will discover soon enough just what this vision could mean."

Continues with Part 1


	2. Part 1

The Fifth Degree

Part 1

"This is the fifth death within as many weeks. This serial killer must be stopped."

"We do not have the resources to cover this, Commissioner Lee. We do not even know how they are being killed. There are no wounds on the body, no poison. The coroner said that each of the organs in each of the victims had been destroyed from within."

"How is that possible Captain Tong?"

The Captain of the Beijing Metro police shook his head. "I do not know."

"Perhaps there is someone who could help. There is an old priest. He lives up in the mountains."

The Commissioner and the Police Captain turned to the man who had spoken. Captain Tong frowned at the man. He believed the conversation between him and the Commissioner had been a private one. The man came out of nowhere, which disturbed the Police Captain greatly. Not only that, the man had the gall to even think that some old priest would know more than they did.

"You would have us go to a priest to solve this crime?"

"They say he is very wise and knows things."

"Who is this priest?" asked Commissioner Lee.

"He is said to be a descendent of the old Shaolin."

"Shaolin," Captain Tong sneered at the man's remark. "They are old wives tales told to children to breed false hopes. The old Shaolin do not exist any more."

The Commissioner was not so skeptical. "The Shaolin do exist, but not of the ones you speak of. I have heard the stories. The monks today are not like the priests of yesterday. Where would we find this priest?"

"He is in Henan Province. It is said that he lives where there was once an ancient temple, far older than any other. No one goes there. They say the place is haunted."

"I do not believe in such things," the Police Captain stated with conviction. "No priest is going to catch a serial killer."

"Please Captain, we must try every avenue we can," the Commissioner tried to sooth the ruffled feathers of his companion then turned toward their unnamed visitor. "Please, can you show us where this priest lives?"

"It is a long way from here, but I will take you."

"Who are you?" asked the Commissioner, curious to know the name of the man who offered to help them in their search for answers.

"They call me the Ancient."

"That is not a name. What do I call you?"

"My name is not important. Your need is great and I live to serve."

"You have been a great service."

The man bowed to the Commissioner in the old formal style. "It is an honor to serve."

Several days later, the Commissioner and the Police Captain faced what remained of an old Shaolin temple It looked like it had been abandoned for at least one hundred years, until they both spotted movement in the shadows.

"I can go no further," their ancient companion indicated. "Only those who have been chosen can enter the temple of the Shaolin. You must wait until you are summoned."

"I don't understand. We can't just walk in and ask what this person knows about these killings?"

"I have studied the ways of the Shaolin. You must wait patiently. Nothing must distract you."

"I cannot wait here until this old guy decides on his own time to see us."

"You will be cast out if you enter with anger in your heart," the Ancient replied. "The Shaolin will help those who ask, but you must not enter without permission."

"I don't believe this," Police Captain Tong stated with impatience. "I will not wait until I am summoned. I have a killer I must find."

The Police Captain started toward the old broken gates when a hand grasped his upper arm holding him back.

"Wait, someone is approaching."

All three turned toward the broken gates to see another man, slight of build, yet strong at the same time. He looked as if he had stepped out of the past. The robes that he wore came from a different era long gone. Not a single strand of hair could be seen on the man's head. It was hard to determine the true age of the person that now stood before them.

The Commissioner and Police Captain could not help notice how their companion bowed to the man. His hands were clasped in front of him, right fist to left open palm, a gesture not seen except in the official Wushu schools. It was not unusual except when the robed man raised his own in reply, the sleeves of the man's robes slipped down his arms to reveal something that had not been seen in China for decades. Two brands could be seen on the man's forearms, the brands of the tiger and the dragon.

At that moment, both Commissioner Lee and Captain Tong turned toward each other with surprised looks. It would seem that the Shaolin were real after all.

Continues with Part 2


	3. Part 2

The Fifth Degree

Part 2

"Please, enter."

Before entering, both men turned back to see that the Ancient was gone.

The two men crossed the threshold of the old gates and entered a world that had not existed for nearly 100 years. Though there were one or two temples that had been reopened, they were more for tourist attractions than actual temples of spiritual learning and training. Only one temple had continued to teach the monks the fighting arts, but even so, it was not the same. Something was missing in those places.

This place felt ancient, as if it had been there since the beginning. Its thick wooden gates hid the treasure within. Ancient gods could be seen in the threshold, guarding this place and greeting all whom entered. Though they could see no one training in the yard of this immense and ancient structure, what equipment was visible, both the Police Captain and Commissioner saw their condition to be in excellent shape, but well used. Someone was still training here, and in the ancient style. In this place there was something more, neither could put their finger on it, but the energy was palpable and real.

The men were led to a staging area in a small room with a raised platform. Another man dressed all in black sat on the dais then waited patiently. Both Commissioner Lee and Captain Tong were instructed to sit. The man who escorted them entered carrying a tray with a teapot and three cups.

"It would appear this place continues to operate, and without the government's approval;" Captain Tong commented with disdain.

"Silence, please," the man with the tray stated. He then gave each person a cup and filled each one from the pot.

The Police Captain was the first to drink, but for some reason the Commissioner held back.

"Please, go home," the man said to Captain Tong as he took a second drink.

Tea spewed out of the Police Captain's mouth. "What! I just got here. What's going on? You bring me up here to speak to an old man . . ."

"Silence," the monk said this time with a little more forcefulness.

"I don't understand. I demand an explanation," Captain Tong continued to express his displeasure.

"Be quiet you disrespectful pup and do as he says," Commissioner Lee turned toward his colleague and admonished Captain Tong's behavior. "We will discuss this later."

Commissioner Lee watched his disgruntled Police Captain rise and leave the room. Only after the young man had left, did he turn back to stare at the man in black. At that chosen moment the old man lifted his teacup to his lips and took a small sip of his tea. Commissioner Lee then followed the old man's example.

"Where did you learn your manners?" asked the old man, his voice gentle and soothing.

"I was taught by my grandfather," the Commissioner answered, but he soon found that he could not meet the eyes of the old man sitting just slightly above him.

"You are troubled." the old monk stated.

"Y-y-yes," Commissioner Lee answered though his words faltered.

"You must tell him what you know," the second man coaxed, having returned without notice.

Commissioner Lee did not know how to begin, but he soon found he was telling the old monk everything he knew. He did not know why. Perhaps it was the incense or the strong tea, but once he completed the task, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"This is most distressing," the old monk shook his head.

"Can you tell me how these crimes are being committed?" asked the Commissioner.

"Yes," the old monk said, "But I do not know if it will help you."

"Please, tell me," the Commissioner pleaded. "I've got to know how these crimes are being committed if we are to solve them."

"Do you know if this person is a man or a woman?"

"No, all we know is that each time a person was found dead, one of their organs looked like it had exploded from the inside."

The old monk nearly blanched when he heard the news. His eyes closed and the Commissioner could see that he was doing his best to remain in an upright position, his body swaying from the impact of the Commissioner's words. The other monk came to his aid, but the old one shook him off.

"Thank you, brother. I am all right. Please, continue with your questions."

"Do you recognize how these victims are being killed?"

"Yes, the person is using Qi Gong."

"But Qi Gong is a healing art," the Commissioner countered.

"There is a dark side to Qi Gong," the old monk instructed. "It is an ancient form of execution, one that was outlawed centuries ago because it was such a powerful force. Many were tempted to use it for more than its purpose."

"Just as our killer is using it."

"Yes," replied the monk.

"So how do we stop this person from striking again or even finding the killer? There is no evidence left behind to trace who is doing this."

"You must find your answers beyond this world."

"I do not understand."

"Only a Shambhala Master can stop the killer."

Commissioner Lee shook his head. "But Shambhala is just a myth."

"Like the Shaolin?" the monk stated with the tilt of his head.

"How did you know . . . I stand corrected."

"Seek for the one whose honor was lost and is now regained. The grasshopper speaks his name."

And with those words, the old monk rose and walked into the depths of the great temple, followed by his companion. A fog rose up around the two men and when it cleared, they were gone, along with the decorative trappings in the room. The Commissioner found himself staring at a rotting stage. A hole that wasn't visible before appeared in the ceiling, allowing the elements of the outside to enter.

A chill ran up the Commissioner's spine. That just wasn't possible. He shook off the sudden chill, not born from the weather, and slowly left the room. Once in the courtyard, he saw the truth. Nothing remained of the buildings but ruins, blackened by fire. What remained was the old wall and ancient gates. Everything else had vanished.

Continued with Part 3


	4. Part 3

The Fifth Degree

Part 3

Once outside, the two men walked back to their car in silence, though Captain Tong seemed anxious to speak. He held his tongue for as long as he could until the two men were once again on the road and heading back to Beijing. Neither was surprised to see the Ancient sitting in the back seat of their car.

"Did you learn much?"

"Yes," though the Commissioner's eyes narrowed. There was something strange about the Ancient, but he was reluctant to ask him, though he suspected there was something more with regard to this old man than he let on.

"I do not understand," Captain Tong stated to the Commissioner. "What did that old man tell you?"

"You do not wish to hear," Commissioner Lee stated.

"Of course I do."

"No, you do not. You will only dismiss what he said as rubbish."

Captain Tong drew in a deep breath, "I apologize for my behavior Commissioner. I was out of line. Please, tell me what the old monk said."

The Commissioner told his Captain exactly what the old Shaolin had said. He explained how each death was being committed, which caused the Captain's eyes to grow wide with astonishment. Commissioner Lee turned toward their ancient companion. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, a look that seemed to state that he knew and understood what the old monk had said.

"The old monk believes that the murderer is using Qi Gong to kill?"

"Yes, that is what he believes."

"Qi Gong is nothing but old men's exercise. It has never been proven that anyone can do the things they say."

"More research has proven that Qi Gong does help but that is not the point," the Commissioner continued. "It is the last statement the old monk said that concerns me."

"Riddles, that is all," Captain Tong scoffed with disdain. "You think that old monk knows more than I? He is just an old fool."

"Do not take Master Kan's words so lightly," the Ancient said with conviction. "If we must look for the one who was dishonored and has now regained that honor, then we must."

"Master Kan?"

"That is the name of the Abbot of the temple your Commissioner Lee spoke with."

"I still think he's a fraud. And what is this 'We' business. I certainly don't want some unknown person or ancient tagging along on MY investigation."

The Commissioner did not hear the argument that ensued, instead he was thinking about the words the mysterious old monk had said, and what happened after. 'Beyond the eastern sea . . . That can only mean one thing. The person who can stop this killer is from America, but I am uncertain about the other half of his statement.'

"You still think that old monk's words will help you catch our killer?" Captain Tong was feeling outraged and jealous. "We have nothing else to go on. Five people are dead because of this person. What makes you think that someone unknown will track down this killer instead of my men? It is only a matter of time. One clue and we shall have him."

Commissioner Lee made some notes then handed the sheet to Captain Tong. "I want you to go to America and find the person that the monk mentioned."

"With what? The monk didn't bother to even give you a name."

"The Ancient will go with you. He may know more than what the old monk told us. Remember, he is versed in the old ways."

Captain Tong could see that Commissioner Lee was bent on finding someone who may not exist. In the mean time a killer remained on the loose, and no one knew when that killer would strike next.

The man screamed as the pain intensified. As his pulse quickened, the pain to his liver continued to build. To call it pain did not even begin to describe what he felt. As his anguish grew his liver swelled, growing in size until it bulged through his skin. Then it happened, bursting threw with such force that what blood had been stored there splattered the nearby wall, painting the surface with its deep red tones. The man's eyes remained fixed in terror beyond imagining, forever frozen in time.

Kwai Chang Caine felt another one die, feeling the man's very liver explode through his skin. Five men died from their hearts exploding in their chests. Seven days went by between deaths then everything grew silent. For 14 days nothing happened. He thought it was over, then this. Why was this happening? It was as if this person was trying to perfect their killing art by concentrating on each of the vital organs that gave a person life. Then Kwai Chang Caine knew without knowing which organ the killer would strike next, once he completed this new pattern. Six days will pass, and on the seventh another man will die, his liver destroyed. It will go on until five men will be dead, then once again there would be a rest period. Then the killer will strike the spleen. If only he could pinpoint where this was happening, he could act to stop it, but no clues came forth.

"Hey, Pop, you here?"

Caine did not say it in so many words but groaned instead.

"You felt another one," Peter stated with concern clearly showing on his face.

"Yes," was all Caine replied.

"I don't like this. There's got to be a way of finding out where this has been happening. Every time you feel someone die, you grow paler. It's taken you nearly two weeks to recover this time, and you were barely recovered from the last one."

"I did not know you noticed my son."

"You can't hide this from me Pop," Peter chided.

"I did not wish to worry you."

"I don't mind worrying about my Dad. Keeps me from wallowing in my own misery and nightmares."

"You have had nightmares, my son?"

"More than my usual share," Peter confessed.

Caine intensely stared at his son. "Tell me."

Caine observed Peter pursing his lips, just as Laura would have done when she was in deep concentration. Then his son revealed what he knew.

"Perhaps we are sensing the same killer."

"Yeah, but from where? This person doesn't seem to be anywhere near Chinatown."

"You can tell that, my son?"

"Yeah, it seems far away." Peter stated and then shrugged one shoulder.

"Perhaps because it comes from China," Lo Si stated, coming into the room without a sound.

"China?" Peter reacted with surprise.

"Someone from there is looking for you, but he does not know it yet."

"Well, how will we let him know? I guess a better question would be why would they be looking for us?"

"Because only those of the line of Kwai Chang will be able to stop this killer."

End of Part 3


	5. Part 4

The Fifth Degree: Practitioner of Death

Part 4

The two men sat in silence. The awkwardness of the moment caused Captain Tong to fidget and look toward his traveling companion. He observed that the old man had his eyes closed.

'Meditating, again. How many hours can this guy sit there without moving a muscle?' Captain Tong asked himself for the umpteenth time.

Even after three days traveling together, Tong still could not figure out the man. Chung Wang was a mystery to him. He learned the old man's name by accident. He appeared to be a young man, but that was deceptive. When Chung Wang had to apply for a passport, Captain Tong was astounded to learn that the Ancient had no birth certificate on record. And when Chung Wang mentioned who his father was, Captain Tong just stared back, his face a total blank.

"Am I supposed to know who he is?" Captain Tong finally replied.

"Everyone knows Kwai Chang Caine," Chung Wang answered back in turn.

"I don't. What's so special about the man?"

"He was the greatest Shaolin Priest who ever lived. Tales are still told about Caine."

"Is that so?" Tong replied with skepticism. "If tales are being told about Caine, why haven't I heard of him? And where is he?"

"Perhaps you have not spent enough time among the smaller villages," Chung Wang countered. "My father died many years ago."

"So, do you know who we're supposed to find?" Captain Tong questioned trying to change the subject.

"Yes," Chung Wang replied, but gave no more information.

Two more days of travel found the two companions entering a Midwestern city near Niagara Falls.

"You seem to know exactly where you are going," Captain Tong once again pleaded with Chung Wang.

"The man we seek lives in this city," Chung Wang finally spoke.

"Finally, a clue," Captain Tong sarcastically answered. "At least we've narrowed the field by 100,000 or so."

"We must go to Chinatown," Chung Wang added, ignoring the barb.

"Really, we're getting warmer. Care to enlighten me further, Master Chung?"

"Do not make light of this," warned Chung Wang.

"I want some answers," Tong demanded. "You know who it is we seek, and yet you won't say. Why is that?" Captain Tong stood in front of the silent man, his eyes boring into him. All he sought was answers, but all Tong got was nothing but silence, or a few words of direction whenever it seemed to suit him. It was as if Chung Wang was deliberately trying to keep him ignorant. Who was this guy they were searching for anyway?

A few more minutes went by as the two men continued to stare at each other as if it was a contest of wills, neither one wanting to break away as if it would mean the other was weak.

"May I help you?"

A third entered the virtual ring, breaking the moment and allowing the two men to save face.

"We are looking for the Shaolin of this community," Chung Wang turned and spoke to the third person, a small ancient-looking man dressed in brown silks.

Captain Tong observed that the old man also carried a light blue fan.

"I know whom you seek, please follow me," the old one said nodding his head.

Captain Tong could not help give a crooked grin when Chung Wang bowed in return but also adding what looked like a strange salute to the old man.

"It is customary to show respect to an elder in the community," Chung Wang said under his breath.

"What am I supposed to do, bow to every old man that I see?"

"When we enter the home of the Shaolin, you will remain silent until I tell you it is time to speak," Chung Wang said.

"You don't tell me what I cannot do!" Tong angrily confronted his companion. "I was sent to find this man. You are here as a guest of the Police."

"Jijing!" Chung Wang cried out. "Your insolence will no longer be tolerated. You will remain here."

Captain Tong bit his tongue, realizing that he stepped too far, "I beg forgiveness. It has been a long five days. You know what we are up against. I also received from the Commissioner information on another death. They have started again."

"Your impatience and worry is understandable," replied the old man.

"I still do not understand why this man is believed to be the one to stop the killings. Surely you can tell me something about the man we are about to see. You owe me at least that."

Chung Wang drew a heavy sigh, "I ask forgiveness. You are right. I have been among the Shaolin for too long. This investigation involves all of us. The man we are seeking is said to be a Shambhala Master, someone who is more powerful than just a Shaolin."

"I do not understand," Captain Tong began. "You seem to know who this man is, and where he lives."

"I know of him," Chung Wang stated, but added within his own thoughts, 'But I did not dare hope."

"Well, we better catch up with our leader," Captain Tong said.

Both men continued to follow the old man with the blue fan, falling once again into silence and their own thoughts.

Continues with Part 5


	6. Part 5

The Fifth Degree: Practitioner of Death

Part 5

The three companions climbed up the rusting fire escape, one ancient, another not so, and the third just a baby by the ages of the other two. Each kept their thoughts to themselves. They soon reached a door on the fourth floor that brought them to the interior of the old brownstone building. As they reached the top, the oldest of the three turned toward his companions.

"You will find what you seek inside," the eldest stated. "He will be pleased and surprised that you are here," he stated to the older of the two. " I shall let him know that you are here."

Captain Tong looked sideways at his companion, suspicion playing on his features. He followed the two old men in silence. They entered a large room with French doors opening onto a large brick terrace that contained many different plants. A workbench could be seen in the center of the room. A tall man stood with his back to the three companions. His graying hair fell to his shoulders. Movement coming from his shoulders showed that he was working on something unseen.

"Uhum," the Ancient cleared his throat to announce his presence. "Two people wish to see you, my friend."

"Thank you, Master," the man replied then turned toward them. The mortar and pestle that he held in his hands suddenly slipped to the floor and shattered on impact. "It cannot be . . ."

Lo Si bent down to pick up the broken pieces then quietly slipped out the door to leave the three to their conversation. He knew at this point, his role would be to make a pot of tea.

The older of the two stepped forward and placing his fist against his open hand, he bowed in recognition. "It is good to see you, my nephew. I hoped it was you."

The younger of the two companions grabbed the other by the shoulder and spun him around speaking angrily in Chinese. He is your nephew? Why didn't you tell me? We would not have gone through all of this. And you apparently are Shaolin. You lied to me.

"You would not have listened," Chung Wang replied in English. "Now that we are here, you can explain your needs."

"Please, arguing does no one good. Tell me, what is going on, Uncle? I have not seen you since I was a boy in China at my father's temple. My father and I believed that you were lost when the soldiers came."

"In the confusion, I was knocked unconscious. I do not know why I was spared. When I came to, someone had moved me to . . . " Chung Wang hesitated remembering that they were not alone, "I was moved to a place of safety, well hidden from prying eyes where I could recover."

"Yes, I know of the place you speak of."

"Enough of this," Captain Tong interrupted the two Shaolin. "We are here on business, nothing more. If you are the one who can stop the killings, than prove it."

"I ask forgiveness, Kwai Chang, for Captain Tong's rudeness. He is not a patient man, and does not understand."

"There was no offence, my Uncle," Kwai Chang Caine replied. "I am familiar with the impatience of another."

"Kwai Chang? As in Kwai Chang Caine?" Captain Tong's eyes narrowed at the mention of the name. "You are Kwai Chang Caine? That is impossible. You cannot be his nephew and be his father as well."

"I am named for my grandfather," replied Caine.

"Then you are far older . . ." Captain Tong began with a surprised look on his face as he turned toward Chung Wang.

"I am quite old, though I may not appear to be so."

"Uncle, father is still alive," Caine stated.

The older priest turned toward his nephew, now quite surprised. "My brother is still alive? I had heard that he had perished in the mountains."

"No, my son and I discovered that he still lives."

"My heart fills with joy over this news, thank you, my nephew."

"Can we get down to business?" Captain Tong tried to redirect the conversation, this time keeping his rudeness in check.

"I already know why you have come," Caine stated. "There have been several murders in China. The last one just two days ago. You wish me to return to help you catch this killer."

"How did you know?" Captain Tong questioned. "No one outside of China knows about these murders. We have even tried to keep them out of the international news because of their nature."

"It does not matter how, only that I know. I will come with you."

"Not without me you don't," a young man stepped in from the terrace.

"And who are you?" Captain Tong questioned.

"He is my son, Peter."

"And who's this?" Peter questioned.

"I am Captain Tong of the Bejing Metro Police," stated the one who asked the question, though the look on his face was pure disdain for someone he deemed as an outsider.

"There's something familiar about you," Peter stated as he turned toward the second man. "I know I've seen you before."

"Peter, this is Chung Wang, your great-uncle."

Silence ensued.

"I have brought a pot of tea," Lo Si entered at that moment, breaking the awkward silence. "It will be a long trip. You must hear everything, and you must plan on what to do next."

Continues with Part 6


	7. Part 6

The Fifth Degree: Practitioner of Death

Part 6

'Screams, such a beautiful sound,' the figure thought as another victim died. 'Soon I will perfect my skill with the taking of the breath of life. With each organ my skill grows. I feel the power. Soon I will need another guinea pig. These little fools are no match for my skill. It is too late for them. Soon it will be time to pit my skills against the greatest of them all, but not yet. I have not perfected my art.'

The victim stared at nothing, blood pooling on the floor as it poured from the gaping fissure that had once been smooth skin. It spread out, moving across the floor to nearly come in contact with the shoes of the figure that stood near the door.

The figure in the black robe quickly stepped back, away from the crimson pool. There must not be a single piece of evidence to link him to the deaths, not yet anyway. It wasn't time. The world would know soon enough, and by that time, it would be too late. For then everyone will know whom it was that killed Kwai Chang Caine.

The hated name rang through his head, bringing along with it images from the past. 'Too long have I suffered under the shadow of that Shaolin. I should have been the one. I should have been chosen, but no, the brothers abandoned me. Their sense of piety would not let them. Am I not just as worthy, despite who and what I am? They will pay just as surely as the one who usurped my position."

The figure walked out into the cool night air. He breathed in its essence. The night was his world. It was his day. He had chosen to live in the night since the world of golden light was denied him. If he could not live where he thought he belonged, he would make his own world, one where all those who embraced the night were welcomed, but not yet. He still was not powerful enough to take on a Shambhala Master. In order to do that, he needed a chi so powerful, it could shatter whatever it came in contact with, and that included the ancient medallions of Shambhala.

Their construction was unknown. They appeared to be made of some kind of crystal. The medallions could be used to access Shambhala, but only by a Shambhala Master. Each medallion was created with a frequency in tune to the chi of its owner. The medallion given to Kwai Chang Caine was supposed to be his. He could feel it, but he had been denied, all because of who he was, but no longer.

'I will have what is mine or I will die. And he will suffer for it, once he knows the truth.'

The man paced the confines of his chambers, hidden from all prying eyes. These chambers were hidden deep within the Forbidden City, long forgotten. Though there were tourists now, the once lavish city, home to royalty was still partially in ruins. There was however, one part of the city that very few if any remember. These were the secret hidden chambers that were created to protect the Emperor during a time of war. The Emperor would be sequestered in these chambers, not just for his own protection but to help in planning his strategy for protecting China. It was here that one of her great Emperors had designed the Great Wall.

Even though he now walked these halls and chambers alone, he hoped that one day, the Emperor would return. As he was contemplating his next move, another entered. He too was dressed in the same manner as the other.

"No one in this world understood the need for such people as us," he said aloud. "Only the Emperor knew and appreciated us. For centuries we aided the Emperor in carrying out his orders. Now, no one believes of our existence, at least very few. Some day that will change. And we will have what is ours again."

"Here is the next one."

"Thank you. Place the file there, on the table. I will examine it later."

"After this one and your training will be complete. You will be a Grand Master and receive the ring that you refused earlier in your training."

"I do not wish for the ring. It is only an outward appearance."

"The ring signifies your title and puts fear into others."

"It will also warn them of my presence. You may use the ring, but I do not wish it."

"It is still yours by right. Do with it as you will. You still plan on testing yourself against a Shambhala Master? The only way you can do that is to go to Shambhala, but we are forbidden to do so, because of what we are. There are no Shambhala Masters here."

"There is one. He is only one person that I wish to inform of my presents. Perhaps the ring will come in handy for that. I wish to examine the file now."

Continues with Part 7


	8. Part 7

The Fifth Degree

Part 7

Traveling back to China took less time than it did to travel to America. There was no need to go through customs since the small party avoided such things.

"I do not understand why you would choose to go this route. My government would have gladly paid for your passage."

"The last time we were here," Peter stated, "We weren't exactly welcomed with open arms." Peter recalled the incident when they returned with the exiled new Emperor of China.

Captain Tong gave Peter a quizzical look.

"Let's just say we wanted to avoid any imperial entanglements."

The captain still did not know what the young Shaolin was referring to, since China had no imperial government.

"We do not wish to alert your serial killer of our presence," Caine replied, but gave Peter a disapproving look. *We must not alert the fact that Sing Ling exists. It is not yet time.*

*Understood, Pop.* Peter replied in kind, accepting the reprimand with grace. He was silent for only a few minutes when he turned back to the captain and asked, "How will you get us involved with the investigation?"

"That is up to my superior," Tong stated coolly. If he had it his way, Caine and his party would have been left back in America. He felt that this was no job for Shaolin priests.

"I am a former cop, if that would put you at ease," Peter leaned in close and whispered to the man.

"How did you know . . ." the man looked alarmed at having his mind read.

"The look on your face. You don't want us here."

At first, Captain Tong didn't answer not wanting to lose face over such a small thing.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I know how it feels. I'm part Chinese, and a lot of the people in Chinatown still don't accept me so easily. It's because I don't look Chinese enough."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You look like a man that needs someone in his corner. I also know what it's like to go through an investigation and being saddled with someone who you think should not be interfering in police business. And I learned that looks can be deceiving."

Without realizing the Chinese police captain was put at ease. This young American Shaolin did know how he felt. Perhaps having him on the investigation was going to be an asset after all. He was uncertain of the old monk and the young man's father. They were too introspective, too mystical. They did not seem to understand the complexities of the investigation. And yet, there was something about the younger of the two that drew the man. The old monk was the same way, and yet there was something else that bothered him. He knew that Chung Wang was hiding something. Tong did not know what it was or whether it was related to the investigation. For now, he would allow the old man to have his secrets. But if it turned out to be important to their case, he would not hesitate to get the answers he needed, one way or another.

"Who is this Jo Emery?" Chung Wang questioned his nephew, changing the subject, and forcing Captain Tong out of his revere.

"A friend. She helped rescue my father and me from the soldiers who destroyed our temple," Caine replied. "She is a friend of a friend."

"A smuggler," Captain Tong sneered with disdain.

The private plane touched down in a field. The pilot Jo Emery, motioned for Caine to join her in private. "I'll meet you at the rendevue in two weeks. Don't be late. I don't trust the Police Captain. I may have to change my route and pick-up time. This place won't be safe after tonight. Go to the alternative site. If that place also gets hot, I'll get in touch with you through the Underground."

"I shall inform Peter. It will be all right. Thank you my friend."

The Police Captain watched as their luggage was quickly removed from the hold and the plane soon took off. Captain Tong knew he should have called this in. The woman had been entering his country illegally, and yet something told him to stay his hand for now. All the woman was doing was ensuring that their killer did not get wind of their investigation, and yet, there was something more here that he wasn't seeing. He made a note of it and decided that this would be investigated later. If it turned out that the woman was smuggling contraband into or even out of the country, she would be severely dealt with.

As if on cue, Caine stated, "She only does what is right. Her secret must not be revealed for the safety of all."

Captain Tong nearly jumped as Caine spoke. He had not heard the man approach. "Smuggling is illegal, no matter what it is. Entering a country without the proper papers is illegal."

"There are events that you do not know. If you arrest her, it could have dire consequences."

"Are you threatening me, Priest?"

"No, only giving you a warning."

"Is everything okay, Pop."

"Everything is fine, my son."

"So, you seem to know what you are doing, Caine," Captain Tong began, his tone sarcastic and icy. "Where do we go from here?"

But it wasn't Caine who answered. It was the old priest. "We walk."

Continues with Part 8


	9. Part 8

The Fifth Degree

Part 8

Captain Tong was beside himself. They were going to walk all the way to Bejing? Nonsense. If the Shaolin wanted to walk let them. He would make other arrangements. Tong reached for his cell phone only to find that he could not get a signal.

"Bah!" Tong said exasperated.

It would seem he was going to be stuck with the Shaolin for quite some time. It wasn't long before they came upon a village. Captain Tong took out his cell phone and tried again.

"You won't get a signal here," Peter said to Captain Tong.

"And why not? This is a village."

"No repeaters, and it looks like time stood still for this place," was Peter's explanation.

Captain Tong though was too preoccupied to notice. When they entered, he stopped one of the villagers and asked, "You there, do you have a phone?"

The Villager stared at him as if he was not familiar with the word then nodded his head. "I am a poor man. I cannot afford such a luxury."

"Is there a phone anywhere in the Village?"

"You might try over there," the villager pointed toward a large building near the center of town. "We have a small inn for travelers. They may have what you seek."

Captain Tong headed in the direction of the structure, leaving his companions behind. He noticed a small crowd was gathering around the Shaolin, especially around Peter Caine. He also noticed that he was receiving some very strange looks and people were whispering among themselves. It would appear that no one in the Village had seen an outsider before. He found it odd. It was then that he noticed other strange things about this particular village. There were no vehicles of any kind, but ox carts and small wooden wagons.

"I do not believe you will find what you are seeking in this particular village," Caine stated as he approached the police captain.

"You may be right. I do not understand. I was not aware that there were villages like this that still existed."

"We are in a very remote area. Do you not recognize the place?"

"I do not know. It seems familiar and yet . . ."

Then Captain Tong noticed the gates and the wall not far from the edge of the village. 'This can't be the place,' he thought. 'There was no village when we came here last.' His eyes were drawn to the place. He could see a gathering of boys outside the gates. Captain Tong could not take his eyes off the boys, then something else happened that was totally unexpected. A door in the gate was opened and a bald-headed man walked out among the boys. He chose one then looked over toward one of two groups of boys. "Please, go home," he told the children. He turned to go back into the temple then turned once more to another group of boys. "You have waited for one week. Please wait a little longer." The boys bowed toward the man in yellow and black as he entered the temple. It was then that Captain Tong noticed how every one else was dressed. No one wore such clothing in over a century.

Captain Tong turned to comment to his companion, but noticed the look on Caine's face. He turned back to see what the Shaolin was staring at. His eyes were drawn to one particular boy wearing a blue shirt tied with a sash and black pants. His hair was cut differently than the other boys and his skin pallor was of a different shade. It was obvious that he was not fully Chinese. The boy stood almost rigidly in one spot, not moving, while all the other boys fidgeted. Some lost interest while others did their best to follow the boy's example. It was a test of patience.

The scene was strange. It was as if they were watching an event that happened long ago.

"You seem to know what is going on," Captain Tong said to Caine.

"I . . . do not understand. That young boy," Caine pointed toward the boy with hair not quite so black as the others, and dressed in the blue shirt tied with the sash. He was the only boy who was standing now waiting to enter the temple. The others were sitting. "He looks like Peter did when he was a boy."

"I did not know that this temple was still in operation. Most Shaolin temples were destroyed or abandoned when the communists came, but this place . . . It is strange."

"We must go," Chung Wang spoke.

The Shaolin gathered their belongings, and headed away from the temple along the road that led out of the village. For a brief moment, Captain Tong and Kwai Chang Caine looked back. The young boy in blue caught their eye, and the boy bowed toward them. Captain Tong watched his companion turn toward the young boy and bow in the same fashion. A fog rose up obscuring the temple and the boy. When the fog dissipated the boy and the village was gone. What remained of the temple were broken walls and rotting gates, just as Captain Tong had seen them the last time he visited.

"I don't understand," Captain Tong stated. "That's just not possible."

"I understand. I believe we witnessed my grandfather entering the temple," Caine said. "It was what saved my grandfather's life. What we saw was a rare gift."

Captain Tong was speechless. For a long time he did not believe in ghosts and superstitious old wives tales, but how could he explain this? Clearly the Shaolin saw what he saw. For a few more minutes, he stood rooted to that spot.

"We must go, it will be dark soon. And we have a long ways to go."

Continues with Part 9


	10. Part 9

The Fifth Degree

Part 9

It took them another four hours to walk to another village. This one was larger and had a hotel with a phone. Captain Tong made a phone call, and they were soon on their way back to Bejing. They were lucky to find that the village also had a rail station. Captain Tong bought them passage and several hours later the train entered Bejing Station. When they arrived, a driver was waiting for them.

"There has been another murder," the officer stated.

"Take us to the scene of the crime," Captain Tong instructed.

"What about these three?" the officer questioned. "It is a crime scene. No citizens or tourists are allowed."

"I am responsible for them. They are here by invitation of the Commissioner as observers."

They drove in silence, each in their own thoughts. The three Shaolin speculating what they would find, and the police captain knowing all too well what they would. The scene was gruesome, blood was everywhere, and no evidence to explain how it got there, other than the dead man. No weapon could be found and no evidence as to whom had committed the crime. While Captain Tong explained to the officers why the strangers from America were there, one of them approached the dead man under the sheet.

Kwai Chang Caine moved toward the body and uncovered it. The face, now older, still contained the essence of the boy in his youth. Though deep lines etched the dead man's features, Caine never forgot him.

"Oh," he sighed deeply, trying to hold onto his grief, but knowing eventually, he would have to let go. For now, he had a duty to perform. He slowly pulled from his pouch, a white cloth. He wrapped it around the fingers of his right hand, dipped it into the open wound, and passed his hand up and down along the chest. He then brushed the cloth along the brow of the deceased man. Then he brought his face close to the dead man's ear and said, "Wait for us. I have to perform the proper ceremonies. You will be avenged." He spoke as if the man still lived. He allowed the tears to fall after that then once again covered the body. "You may remove the body now. It ceases to have meaning." Caine remained where he was remembering a time long passed as tears continued to roll down his cheeks at the loss of a once beloved friend.

Captain Tong observed the other two Shaolin, each bowing their heads. When the body was removed, questions abound. "What was that all about? He acts as if he knew the man."

"You will have to ask him," Peter said, remembering another time when his father performed the same act on another.

"I do not understand. What was he doing, performing some kind of ceremony?"

"Yes. Certain kinds of death fragment the spirit. Delays its passage," Chung Wang answered.

"Why?"

"Sometimes the manner of death has equal significance as the death itself. We're going to need a place of privacy to mourn the man's passing," Chung Wang requested.

Captain Tong watched as Peter approached his grieving father and placed his arms around his shoulders. He watched as the older man rested his head on the younger man's chest while the younger bent his head close to his father's ear and whispered something he could not hear. He was certain that Caine knew the man from his reaction to the body. He would have to ask the Shaolin later.

"See to it that they are taken to a comfortable hotel," the police captain stated.

"We must see to the family," Chung Wang stated. "There are certain ceremonies that will have to be performed."

"It is the officer's duty to inform the family . . ."

"He had no family," Caine stated.

"How do you know?" Captain Tong questioned.

Caine held out a set of prayer beads. "They were clutched in his hand. No one bothered to remove them."

"So, he was a monk. Even so, we will have to verify, and if he did have family, they will have to be informed. I must take those." Captain Tong pointed toward the prayer beads in Caine's hands. "That should have been the job of the coroner and the forensics team. I must know, do you know the deceased?"

"I did, long ago. I believed I would never see him again. His name is Lai Pei."

Continues with Part 10


	11. Part 10

The Fifth Degree: Practitioner of Death

Part 10

The rumors were true. Three strangers had entered the city, strangers that were working with the police. Could he dare to hope that the Shaolin was with them? If that was the case, then who were the other two? He would have to find out. Still, it wasn't time yet. With this last one, he had perfected his art, but the risk of discovery was growing. Sooner or later, he knew that someone could catch him in the act. So far, no one had. He took those victims that had no family, at least no family that was apparent. He could not be certain of all the victims. It had been too long. He was certain of one thing, only one thread linked these men together, and that was the past. There were more threads, but the police hadn't even discovered this one. Only one man might, and he was counting on that one man to see it, with this recent death.

"I better see who these three strangers are," the man stated. "Perhaps one of them is the very person I am seeking."

"Lai Pei? Wasn't he your best friend at your father's temple?" Peter asked.

"Yes. I gave him our drawings that we would do together for safe keeping right before the soldiers invaded. I saw him taken and was nearly taken myself. I never knew what happened to him."

"Pop, if this is Lai Pei and if this guy is killing people with his Qi, maybe he's a priest."

Caine turned toward his son, "A priest would not do this."

"Tan was a priest," Peter reminded his father. "And he took revenge out of humiliation."

Caine's thoughts returned to the day when he defeated Master Dao and kicked him out of the temple. "If it is a priest doing this, why?"

"I think it's time I do some investigating on my own."

"Be careful, Peter. This man is very dangerous."

"Captain Tong is way over his head with this one. You and I both know it."

It was then that the Captain approached the grieving priest and his son. "The rest of the forensics team must go over this room. We had better leave. I will see you to your hotel."

After Captain Tong left their side, Peter said, "I think we better go. Captain Tong is getting antsy. Remind you of anyone?"

The comment drew a quirky smile to Caine's lips. "Only recently."

"Okay, so I still have a little trouble with patience. You don't have to rub it in."

As they turned to leave, it was then that Caine spotted the blood-covered saffron colored cloth crammed behind the door. It was the robe of a priest. It was more evidence, but would it show who did this atrocity. Caine was about to reach for it, when Peter stayed his hand.

"They're going to have to bag that for evidence," he reminded his father. "Looks like your friend became a priest after all."

"No," Caine shook his head. "He did not have the brands."

"That old practice?" Captain Tong could not help but overhear. "It was banned over 60 years ago. Perhaps that is why no one believes that the Shaolin exist any more. They are all Buddhist Monks now."

This news disturbed the three Shaolin, but none commented on it. This was something to be discussed among them selves, though Peter and Caine knew the truth. There were at least two Shaolin Temples in the world. The mystical temple of Shambhala, not of this earthly plane, and another hidden away far to the north.

To think that this killer was a priest brought great shame to the order. This was something only the Shaolin could face. Peter was right, the police Captain was in way over his head. The Shaolin hoped they could discover who this killer was before he struck again.

Continues with Part 11


	12. Part 11

The Fifth Degree: Practitioner of Death

Part 11

"Captain, mind if I tag along?" Peter asked.

"I must make a report to my Commissioner," Captain Tong answered.

"Well, maybe I can shed some light on this investigation."

"How so, Shaolin?"

"We know the dead man's name and the fact that he was a monk. Were any of the other victims monks?"

Captain Tong turned toward the young Shaolin in question, "Why are you doing this?"

"Hey, I can't help it. I used to be a cop. Someone is killed I go into cop mode. I've also investigated serial killings before. There is always a common thread that leads to the killer."

"Not in this case. There has been no evidence. There is no link."

"My Pop would say, 'The killer is the link.' And I say, to know a man, you must walk a mile in his shoes. You've got to get inside the head of this man. He's got a grudge against someone. Both my father and I felt these victims die. We are also linked to this killer. Why, I don't know. But we intend to find out."

"Do not interfere," Captain Tong stated, though it was without conviction.

"Sorry, pal. We're staying. Your police commissioner wants us here. He thinks we can stop this killer."

"You are not like the other two Shaolin. You do not speak as they do."

"Damn straight on that. I'm my own person. Maybe it's because I was a cop before I became a priest. I know one thing you need us on this case. You're way over your head on this one."

Captain Tong shrugged his shoulder, "You believe that? Come with then. I do not believe you can help in this matter. Eventually, I will catch the killer."

"Yeah, in the mean time, more people will continue to die. I don't think you want that on your record. There's been enough killings. It has to stop. And I will do whatever is required to make certain that it does."

"I have a squad car out front," was all Captain Tong said.

They road in silence and were soon entering the police commissioner's office. Captain Tong made his report on the latest killing then started to introduce the young man.

"I have brought the um, Shaolin . . ."

"Is this the Shambhala Master who is supposed to stop this madman?" Commissioner Lee asked. "Welcome Master."

"Actually, I think you're referring to my father. I'm just a simple priest," Peter commented. 'But I'm not without experience myself. I used to be a cop. I thought I'd help you with your investigation."

"That is much appreciated, how may we help you?"

"I'd like to see the files on all the victims," Peter stated.

"Impossible, those files are classified," Captain Tong stated.

"I might be able to see something that your officers might have missed. A fresh perspective can sometimes help in these situations." Peter added, ignoring the Captain's comment.

"Take the Shaolin to a briefing room and supply him with the necessary files. If you do see something, you will let us know, won't you?"

"Of course, Commissioner."

"You said you used to be a cop. Who was your commanding officer?"

"Paul Blaisdell," Peter replied.

Commissioner Lee was taken by surprise, "The Falcon. I know him. He is a good man. How is he?"

"I . . . do not know," Peter shrugged. "He left the force and disappeared about three years ago. No one's heard from him."

"I heard that he had adopted a son."

"Fostered actually," Peter replied. "I never took the Blaisdell name."

"You are not Peter Caine? The very son that Blaisdell . . . I should have known. Well, we are glad to have you here. So, he was your commanding officer."

"Oh yeah," Peter replied.

"Tell me Peter Caine, how is it that you were fostered by the Blaisdell family and yet you said your father is a Shambhala Master?"

"Just lucky I guess. My mother died when I was two. I thought my father died when our home was destroyed. Then I was fostered by the Blaisdell family. They finished raising me and I became a cop, mainly because of Captain Blaisdell. Then I learned that my father wasn't dead. We reunited about five years ago, and I've had two fathers ever since."

"Such an intriguing story."

"You don't know the half of it," Peter grinned.

"Captain Tong, see that Peter Caine is given everything that he needs," the Commissioner repeated. "Since you were once a police officer, you just might see things that my men have missed. You will let Captain Tong know what you have found. He is in charge of this investigation."

"With all due respect, Commissioner," Peter began. "I really think your captain is in way over his head. This guy is using powers that only my father can stop. If Captain Tong tries to corner the guy or arrest him in the usual way, he may end up dead."

"I can take care of myself, Caine," Captain Tong interjected.

"No offence intended, Captain. But you've seen what this guy is capable of doing."

"I am well aware of that, and I am not without some skills myself."

"You know kung fu?" Peter questioned him.

"No, I am a marksman," Captain Tong stated.

"Well let me tell you. I am a marksman myself. Got a lot of awards for it, too. I believed that a well-placed bullet would stop any perp. Ordinary perps sure, but not every perp is going to be ordinary. Let me demonstrate. Point your gun at me."

Captain Tong hesitated, not certain where this was leading.

"Do as he says Captain," Commissioner Lee stated. "I for one would like to see this demonstration."

Captain Tong did as the Commissioner instructed and pointed his gun at the young Shaolin.

Peter took in a deep breath, calming his spirit then raised his hands so his palms were facing the gun. Suddenly the gun began to glow red.

"Ahhhh," Captain Tong dropped the gun and examined his hand. The burn was superficial, but it was enough. "How did you . . ."

"It's a Shaolin thing. I used my chi to heat the metal of the gun."

"But that is impossible."

"You felt it burn, didn't you?"

Captain Tong said nothing more.

"My point exactly. That's just a small taste of what you're going up against. You need my father's help, and mine."

Continues with Part 12


	13. Part 12

The Fifth Degree

Part 12

Peter was led to a space that doubled as an interrogation room. It had the usual plain walls with a mirror at one end, which he knew had a viewing room on the other side. There was a long table in the center of the room with several chairs, and a single overhead lamp, antiquated but suitable for his purpose. Soon after, an officer came in carrying a large file box. Peter could not help but sense the man's contempt as he placed the box on the table.

"I hope you find what you are looking for, Priest," the officer said in broken English.

"I hope so too, for both our sakes," Peter replied back in fluent Chinese, then added, "I am part Chinese on my father's side."

The officer's eyes became wide and he quickly bowed to Peter. "I meant no offence."

Peter in turn gave him the Shaolin salute. "None taken."

After the officer left, Peter went to work on the file box. He pulled out each folder and opened them. Though the writing was Chinese, he understood most of it. His skill at reading Chinese again was growing and he was becoming more fluent. He was even starting to write in Chinese. As he read the file, the same officer came in, this time bringing a pad of paper and a couple of pens.

"To make notes, in case you see something."

"Thanks," Peter replied.

After that, the officer left him alone. Peter looked over the gruesome photos and wished that Nicky Elder was there to explain them. It wasn't that he mistrusted the coroner here he felt he needed someone familiar around. Each photo and file he pulled out pretty much said the same thing, until the pattern changed. First it was the man's heart, then another organ. There were eight deaths in all, including the most recent one they saw, an oddity, which struck Peter. His father had felt every death and even he was aware of them, though mostly in his dreams. Yet, in this most recent one neither he nor his father had felt the man's death.

Peter looked through each of the photos and a link soon emerged. All the victims were of similar age. Some had families that they left behind. A few did not. Then something caught Peter's eyes in three of the photographs and he was quickly examining the coroner's reports.

The officer came in at that moment with a file containing the latest information on the most recent death. He handed the file to Peter.

"Was there anything else that was found at the scene besides the bodies?" Peter asked.

"There was some clothing, but the clothing belonged to the victim."

"What kind of clothing?"

"There are photographs . . ." the officer started to explain.

"I know, but I want you to describe them to me." Peter interrupted.

The young officer drew in a heavy sigh. He had been at a few of the scenes, but not all. He wasn't the primary officer on these cases. "I am sorry, venerable sir, but I was not there at all the killings. I can only describe what I saw with regard to three."

"That's all right, I just need to know what some of them were wearing. I can ask the primary on the case later. His name is Detective Jackie Chan, right?"

"No, that would be Captain Tong. He oversees every case."

"Isn't there a Detective working on the investigation?" Peter asked "The name on the forms say Chan"

"Yes, sir. He fills out the forms and keeps the records."

"Usually the Captain would assign a detective to the case. Why is the Captain this closely involved?"

"Because the Commissioner insisted. Too many deaths, and not all our detectives are trained in handling deaths of this kind."

"How many are trained to handle homicide?"

"I do not know."

Peter could sense the officer was uncomfortable with what he had seen but Peter was soon getting it out of the man. He was right about one thing, the officer had not fully paid attention to the scene of the crime due to the gruesome nature of it, but the officer did corroborate what Peter had found in three of the photos. A quick glance at what he had found so far and he knew that there were four that matched. Suddenly, a fifth image caught his eye. He had not spotted it before because it was nearly hidden, but it was there. That made five known photos. Now he just needed to see the latest. Peter picked up the final folder, read the forms, and examined the photos. Everything that he read seemed to match with the others, but something was missing. It was another link.

"I'm beginning to see a pattern here," Peter said to himself. His next agenda was to speak to Detective Jackie Chan.

When he finally did get to meet the Detective, it was as if they had been old friends. It would seem this Detective not only had heard of Paul Blaisdell, but of Peter's exploits as a cop. Also something about this detective reminded Peter of himself. 'He would have been at home at the 101st,' he thought. 'Could have given me a run for the money.'

Detective Chan lowered his voice so no one would hear. "My uncle is the Commissioner. He would tell me stories."

"Your uncle is the Commissioner?" Peter could not help but smile at that, reminding him of another pair back home. In this case the Detective that Peter was thinking of was the son of the Commissioner. Thomas Jefferson Kinkaide turned out to be a better homicide cop than T.J.'s father gave him credit for.

"Detective, I'd like you to take a look at this. I'm hoping you'll see what I see."

Peter showed Detective Chan the files.

"Where did you get these?"

"From the records clerk," Peter replied.

"I have not seen these before."

"The clerk said they were in Captain Tong's office. He was reluctant to hand them over."

"I can see why, though he should have given them to me. I might have been able to find out more information."

"Well you have them now. Take a look at this." Peter showed him two possible links. "All the victims were the same age. Now, look at this item here." Peter pointed a particular spot on the forms. "Do you see it?"

"How could I have missed that?" Jackie Chan stated.

"Forensics recorded it, but sometimes we often over look the obvious because we don't see a link. There are five here. The sixth one doesn't have it, but there is still a link based on this. Maybe we better go ask about the others. Even though they weren't dressed the same, there could be a link somewhere in their pasts."

"I do not understand," Detective Chan stated.

Peter pulled out the latest folder, "Your Captain made the report, but you probably need to know this, too. My father recognized the latest victim. He knew him."

"How is that possible? Your father is from America. What would Captain Blaisdell have to do with this?"

"Captain Blaisdell is my foster father."

"But you said your father knew the latest victim. How is that possible?"

"My real father was in China when he was a boy. He was with his father at a Shaolin Temple. That's where he knew Lai Pei, and that's who our latest victim is."

It was then that Peter noticed the light go on in Detective Chan's eyes. He had seen the connection, too.

Continues with part 13


	14. Part 13

The Fifth Degree: Practitioner of Death

Part 13

"You have done well giving me what I want. What information do you have for me today?" the man in the shadows asked another.

The other handed the man an envelope. In turn the man in the shadows handed over another thick envelope.

"Nice doing business with you. If you need anything else, you know how to reach me."

Both men left the area as quickly as possible so as not to draw attention. The man returned but not to his home. It was deep within Bejing's hidden underground. The place would not have been that unfamiliar to many, but at the same time, everyone who saw it would wonder why build such a place deep below the city. The place was a reminder of what had been lost, and yet what had yet to be regained. It was also a place for others of his kind to train in the art that he hoped to pass on to others. Though it was forbidden, and had been for centuries, he believed that all knowledge forbidden or not, had to be shared by all. There were those, like the Shaolin, who would argue that such forbidden knowledge would tempt those to use it. The Shaolin were right. The temptation was too great, but the use of such power had been done in the past, under dire circumstances, and he believed that his circumstances had been dire. He had been denied what was rightfully his, and he felt those that had denied him should be punished.

The man opened the envelope and discovered it contained several photographs. On the back were the names identifying those shown.

"So, you have come, good," he said, holding up one of the photographs. Then the man held up another, this time of a much younger man. "So, this is your son. Let's hope he does not interfere or his fate will be the same." Then he saw the third. The face looked familiar and yet he could not place the old man. A memory skirted his thoughts but it never fully came to fruition. No matter, it would come to him sooner or later. Then his eyes fell on the son's photo again. "Perhaps it is time that I show the Shambhala Master who has the greater power." The man pulled a cell phone from his robes and dialed a number. "There is someone that I wish you to watch," he said as he held up the image before him. He then explained in detail just who it was he had in mind.

"When do you want him?"

"Not for at least two days."

"You would break your pattern?" The man on the other end of the phone questioned.

"You know of my intent?"

"Let's just say I recognized your handy work, despite the lack of evidence."

"Be careful friend, or you may suffer the same fate."

"I am not afraid," the voice from the phone stated. "I've been dead before, or at least given the appearance of death. You cannot kill me that easily. Even you would not see me coming before I was to strike. Use what skills you have, and those of us will be forever grateful. The protector of Shambhala will be gone then we can move in at any time."

"Not before I get what is mine."

"Who is it that is not being careful now. You do not dictate terms to us. You would not want us to reveal to the police just who it is committing these crimes. And you certainly would not want him to find out."

"Who?"

"The old man in the third photo that was given you."

"What is he to me? He is just an old man."

"He is more than just an old man," the voice instructed. "He is related to the Shambhala Master. We allowed him to live, to seek those whom he loves. It is up to you to destroy the Shambhala Master's spirit by destroying what is left of his family."

"Why, what is so important about this old man?"

"Because he holds a secret, the truth."

"What of the truth. All I wish is my birthright."

"That is not possible," said the voice. "The Masters will not allow you to enter their domain, even if you could. You chose the path of the Chi Ru when you made your first kill when you were a child. You were trained in the art of the Chi Ru. You have reached the Fifth Degree. The Fifth Degree of the Chi Ru is a DEATH degree. You chose the method in how you would carry out that degree. Five deaths for each of the sacred five organs. You have done the first, but you have not completed the second. You must complete all to reach the level of a Grand Master. The last four deaths were not so clean. The organs must not burst through the body. Death must come from within and remain within. The final death must culminate in the utter destruction of one by destroying all five at once. You must continue in that or you will not succeed."

"I shall succeed. I shall succeed with the death of the Shambhala Master. But before I do, I shall practice on his son."

"No, you shall not," the voice on the phone warned. "Touch the son and you will destroy the Master before he is ready."

"Then who shall I take next?"

"Look closely at the old man. He holds a secret. If you wish to know that secret, seek him out."

Continues with Part 14


	15. Part 14

The Fifth Degree

Part 14

Chung Wang sat on the floor trying to meditate, but his old bones found it difficult so he moved to one of the beds. The hotel room wasn't what he was used to. He would have preferred to be home, but that was not possible. He knew he would not die there, and he needed to make his preparations before HE came. For now he would meditate, but he was finding it very difficult with the restless energy flowing in the room.

"You are worried about your son," Chung Wang stated. "He has been gone for several hours."

"Peter is Shaolin, but I cannot help worry for his safety."

"It is a father's lot in life, to worry about their children when they are far from his side."

"You seem to understand," Caine observed.

"I too had a child, do you not remember?" Chung stated.

Chung Wang observed that his nephew did indeed remember, but the memories were not all that pleasant.

"I remember my cousin did not seem happy at the temple. My father and I had not been there long."

"Chung Kwai was never truly happy. He had great ambition and could not understand why a monk should be humble. When the soldiers came, there was nothing I could do. We were separated. I searched for him soon after, but I never learned what happened to him." Chung Wang kept his eyes down cast. It was not time for his nephew to know. That would come later.

"The soldiers took many that day," Kwai Chang remembered

Caine's thoughts drifted back to that day. He was but a child then. It was 1949; there was gunfire in Zhanzhou Village and outside the Shaolin Temple. All the monks, children, and their families were gathering their belongings, trying to flee from the soldiers.

Young Kwai Chang asked, "Where are we going, father?"

"America," Matthew answered.

"Why can't we stay here, hide in the countryside?"

"Too dangerous."

"We could stay with Lai Pei's family," young KC stated.

"And risk their lives too? No, it is no longer safe for us here, son. This new regime is so intent on its cleansing, cleansing freedom from the land."

"You have taught me that freedom is a state of mind."

"That is true," replied Matthew. 'But you need a body to go along with that mind."

As Kwai Chang watched his father pick up his pipe and place it in his traveling bag. He picked up the bowl it rested in to place that in as well, but replaced it on the table instead.

"Come, we must hurry."

"Wait, I must say goodbye."

Kwai Chang Caine approached Lai Pei and handed him the drawings that they had both worked on, asking his friend to keep them safe. He watched Lai Pei place them in his special box. Then Lai Pei asked Kwai Chang if he would ever return, but all Kwai Chang could do was shrug one shoulder with uncertainty. Lai Pei turned away to leave and Kwai Chang turned toward his father.

Kwai Chang returned from his thoughts and continued telling the rest of what happened..

"I remember running. My father and Lai Pei and his family were behind me. Then the soldiers were upon us and we were separated. They grabbed Lai Pei and I tried to go to him. A soldier tried to grab me, and my father fought him. He picked me up and I never saw Lai Pei again. They destroyed the temple as an example. I believed for many years that Lai Pei had been killed. Now I find that he had lived, but only to die at the hands of another."

"Your heart is filled with grief, my nephew. Perhaps it is time that you speak with Lai Pei's family."

"Captain Tong said if he had family, he would contact them."

"You are a priest, and best suited to give comfort."

"You are right. Do you know where I may find them?"

Chung Wang walked over to the desk and scribbled an address on a sheet of paper. "The police may have already spoken to his family, but they will need your guidance. You will find them here. When I found that many of the children from the temple lived, even though my own son was lost to me, I kept in touch with them. Some still became monks while others returned to their old way of life, as farmers. A few remained in the village. Others went on to other places. Lai Pei came to Bejing."

"I shall go at once, but what of you?"

"I shall wait for Peter. I will let him know where you have gone."

Kwai Chang started to leave when he turned to face his Uncle. "One thing still puzzles me. I felt every victim's death, but I did not feel Lai Pei's death."

"Perhaps you did not feel it because you could not. Where were we when Lai Pei died?"

"We were at the temple in Hunan Province."

"We watched your grandfather, my father waiting to enter the temple."

"Yes," Kwai Chang stated, and a glimmer of understanding opened up.

"For a brief moment, we were in the past, witnessing that moment in time. You could not have felt Lai Pei's death because Lai Pei did not exist then. Perhaps the fates wished to protect you from the agony of that moment."

"Perhaps. I must go. Lai Pei's family must be told." With those last words, Caine made his way to the door and left his Uncle to his meditation.

As soon as his nephew left, Chung Wang walked over to the desk and pulled out an envelope and the tablet of paper. This would not be an easy letter, but if he did not write this down, his nephew might never learn the truth. It was time. He only hoped that he would be forgiven.

Continues with part 15


	16. Part 15

The Fifth Degree

Part 15

Hours quickly slipped by and darkness descended on the city. Peter was still involved with the police investigation, and Kwai Chang Caine had not returned from visiting the family of Lai Pei. Finished with his preparations, Chung Wang went back to meditating, contemplating his life. It had been a long one, though not often a happy one. He had seen too many changes. And now there would be one more. Darkness was spreading across his soul. He knew his time on this earthly plane would soon be gone. He had to do this one task before he left it

Chung Wang remembered his life, replaying those significant moments that had an impact. One such moment was when he learned that the Shaolin he was supposed to kill was none other than his father. He was much younger then. So much time had passed.

Chung Wang remembered the fight. He had tried to leap at the Shaolin and had fallen into the lake. Kwai Chang Caine had fished him out to keep him from drowning. It was as if it was all he remembered, until the Manchu referred to him as a coward like his spineless Shaolin father. Afterwards, something happened and what spell the Manchu held Chung Wang in was broken. There was the sound of many chanting voices and the ground shook. The golden and diamond medallion fell from the Manchu's hands then burst into flame. It had been destroyed.

Chung Wang remembered after changing his clothes that he approached the Shaolin, this time humbly. He sat on his knees as the Shaolin was playing a bamboo flute. Chung Wang then said, "Sir, is it true that you are my father?"

The Shaolin answered, "It is true."

"Who are you?"

"A simple monk, humble like the dust," the Shaolin replied.

"And where will you go now?"

"Back to the city."

"But why?" Chung Wang questioned. "It must be dangerous for you there."

"I have made a promise to a noble lady. There are men who must be brought to justice. Evil men, but first I must give thanks to these old friends here."

Chung Wang looked around and said, "But I see no one."

The Shaolin smiled and a small chuckle escaped his lips. "That does not mean they are not here. Can you not hear them?"

Chung Wang remembered he shook his head and his father instructed him to close his eyes.

"What do you hear," he had said.

Chung Wang did as his father instructed and stated, "I hear the wind and I hear a bird."

"Do you hear your own heartbeat," he asked. "Or the grasshopper, which is at your feet."

Chung Wang did indeed look down as his father tapped him on the leg with his flute then pointed to a spot next to him in the grass. A grasshopper did indeed sit there.

"How is it that you hear these things?" Chung Wang asked.

"How is it that you do not."

"But I see no one here. I do not understand, father."

"That is a beginning."

But Chung Wang never fully learned how to listen for the grasshopper. He never even took the brands. From that moment Chung Wang began to pay his penance. He had played a role in killing the priests of the temple in Hunan Province, the very temple where his father had also became a Shaolin. It was a debt of a lifetime, and soon he would pay his final debt, the ultimate price in saving his nephew.

The room grew dark, the light now absent from all corners. It was then that he felt the presence. He shivered but not from the cold. It was as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped several degrees.

"You have come,' Chung Wang stated.

"You know why I am here?"

"To test your skills, as all who have died have been, just as you did that day."

As the two men talked Chung Wang made his preparations. He rose from the bed and walked over to a desk, and picked up an envelope, placing it in his pocket.

"You do not have to do this."

"You now plead for your life?"

"I do not speak for myself. I speak of another. He does not have to die. It was I who caused your anger."

"You? You are only the final test. What do you know of my anger? Who are you?

"Do you not know who I am?" Chung Wang questioned. "Have they robbed you of all memory?

"You do look familiar to me, but should I know you?"

"You were named for two, myself and another."

"And who is that other?"

"Your grandfather. You are Chung Kwai, grandson of Kwai Chang Caine. Caine was my father."

"I do not believe you. My father was killed when the soldiers . . ."

"Raided our temple," Chung Wang finished his son's words. "I was knocked unconscious. I did not die, though many did that day. You do not remember that you left before that happened?"

"No. If you are who you say you are, why did you not come and find me?"

"You chose another path and rejected the teachings of Shaolin. They took you from me. I had no knowledge where to find you."

"Liar!" Chung Kwai cried. "Now I remember. You knew where to find me. You were ashamed. You chose not to. You did not even try to bring me back to the light. You gave up on me. You turned your back. You failed and for that you will pay."

"I ask forgiveness."

"Forgiveness? It is too late."

"Do what you will," Chung Wang stated. "I will not stop you."

"Such a noble sacrifice."

"But before you do, know this. No son or grandson of Kwai Chang Caine has ever committed such atrocities. It is you who have shamed this family, when you took the life of the monk when you were ten years old. That is why I turned my back. I was ashamed. And I am sorry for it. Maybe by my death, a cleansing will be done."

Chung Wang felt the energy slam into him. He felt no fear as his life force was drained from him and each of his vital organs collapsed under the pressure. His soul fled at the moment of death. His final thoughts projected on the wind.

"I love you, my son," but they went unheard.

Chung Kwai walked over to his now dead father and slipped something in the pocket of his robe.

"There will be a cleansing, but it will not be your soul old man. Your death will only be the beginning. It will be the beginning of the end of the line of Caine, and a new line will be drawn."

Continues with Part 16


	17. Part 16

The Fifth Degree

Part 16

"I must thank you for coming Mr. Caine. Your friendship with my husband meant a lot. He would often wonder what had happened, then he heard that you were in America, and that you also like your father had a temple."

"Yes, but that temple was also destroyed."

"You said you are Shaolin?"

"Yes," Caine pulled up the sleeves of his shirt to show Lai Pei's widow.

"Oh, if only the monks today would see that the Shaolin need the brands."

"They do not brand themselves?"

"Not in this day and age. It was forbidden."

Caine was astounded to here that such a practice could no longer be carried out. It was his belief that without the brands, a Shaolin could not fully know the universe. It was the outward symbol of who he was.

"Would you care for something to eat? I do not have much, but you are most welcome."

"I would be honored."

A meager but filling meal of vegetables and rice was prepared.

"Did Lai Pei ever have any children?" Caine asked.

"We had one son. He was a police officer. He was killed in the line of duty trying to stop a robbery."

Caine's thoughts turned toward his own son. "I too have a son. He was a police officer, a detective. He is now Shaolin."

"You are lucky. Many young men do not wish to stay, and many families do not want girls."

Caine noticed the darkness descending and the day was coming to a close.

"I should go. We have talked for hours."

"Please, come again when this business is over."

"I would be . . ."

At that very moment, Caine suddenly became aware of another's pain, and yet the anguish that had been a part of the others wasn't present in this person. Even so, the blow to his chi and mind was enough to nearly knock him from his feet. He staggered and fell against the doorframe.

"Are you all right? You are very pale."

"Something has happened. Please call my son. He is with Commissioner Lee and Captain Tong of the police."

"Please, sit. I will call them. What is your son's name?

"Peter," Caine replied breathless as he gingerly moved toward a comfortable chair to sit.

Lai Pei's widow did as the Shaolin instructed.

"Here, I have your son on the phone." She handed the receiver to Caine.

"Peter, please go back to the hotel."

"What is it, Pop?" Peter said on the other end.

"Something has happened to Chung Wang."

"I'll go at once."

"Take Captain Tong with you. You may need his help. I shall return as quickly as I can."

Caine handed the receiver to the widow of Lai Pei. He started to rise, but he was still weak from the energy drain, and he fell back into the chair. He could not understand why it was so.

"You will not make it in your condition. I will drive you."

Caine nodded his head. He draped his arm around the woman's shoulder, trying not to put all his weight on her. He was led to the woman's car and they were soon speeding down the road back to Caine's hotel. When they arrived, Peter was already there. Several police cars were outside and Caine already knew that it was bad without their presence. As he approached the room Peter blocked his path.

"Pop, wait. It's bad."

"I must see the body."

"I know, I already performed the ritual, but I think you need to see this." Peter held out an envelope smeared with blood. "I found it in the pocket of his robe. It's addressed to you."

"Has the police seen this?"

"No, not yet. I wanted you to see it first."

"You have read it," Caine stated.

"Of course not. It's for your eyes only. If you want me to read it, I will, but . . .there's more. I also found this." Peter opened his hand and a ring rested there.

Caine did not question further but took the envelope.

"I think we better go somewhere private while forensics does their job," Peter said.

"I will have to inform my father about his brother."

"Something tells me he may already know," Peter stated.

Continues with Part 17


	18. Part 17

The Fifth Degree

Part 17

Caine and Peter went to the lobby and found a quiet corner. The blood-smeared envelope lay on the table. As Caine reached for it, his hand shook.

"Want me to open it?" Peter asked.

"No, I must do this myself."

Caine reached in his pouch and pulled out a strip of cloth, the very same cloth he used for the quick ceremony he performed over the body of Lai Pei. He used the cloth to wipe away some of the blood from the envelope before opening it. When he finally did, what he read brought anguish and shame. Deep racking sobs escaped his lips and tears fell like rain.

"Pop," Peter drew close, encircling his father in his arms.

The letter slipped from Caine's grasp and Peter picked it up. As he read the letter, he knew it for what it was, having seen several like them in his career as a cop.

"My Nephew,

Please forgive me for what I am about to do. I have known since you and your father came to the temple many years ago that the penance that I was paying then would not be enough to erase the stain on my soul. I never told you about the past, and now it makes little difference. All that matters is another is committing great atrocities and he must be stopped or more shame will be placed on the name of Caine. Though I hoped it wasn't so. He chose his path and I chose mine. He left just before the soldiers came. The Chi Ru came for him. There was nothing I could do to stop them. When they have chosen someone for their order, you do not turn them down so easily.

They came to me weeks before. They wanted my son. Though I tried to tell them my son must choose his own path, they would not listen. Then it happened, if you remember. One of the brothers died mysteriously. My son was found next to the body. Everyone believed he found Brother Shi Li nu, but I knew differently. The look in my son's eyes had changed. There no longer was warmth in their depths. All life had left his eyes. They had become the eyes of an assassin. We understood without speaking that he would have to leave. So, just before the soldiers came, I let him go. I allowed the soldiers to strike me down, believing I would die. I had died that night, but my body lived. My shame was that I did not try to protect my son from them, and now my son is one of them.

It is Chung Kwai, who is killing everyone. He is a Chi Ru Master. He will be coming for me tonight. I shall not stop him from killing me. By my death I hope that I shall keep him from killing you, my nephew. I do not know why he does this. I saw one other thing that night, great bitterness and jealousy. His soul is in jeopardy. I hope to plead with our ancestors. I have broken a sacred trust. May I be forgiven.

Chung Wang"

Caine continued weeping in his son's arms. "Come on Pop. I'll see about getting us another room. You need rest. I'll talk with Captain Tong. He's going to want to know about this letter."

"No," Caine stated.

"We can't withhold evidence. Uncle Chung Wang did and too many people died because of it."

"I must face my cousin, alone."

"Pop, I can't let you do that."

"I must know why he is doing this. Your Uncle died believing by his death, his son would not wish to kill me."

"But how do you know Chung Kwai wants to kill you?"

"Give me the ring," Caine stated. "Do you not recognize the symbol that is on this ring? It is a ring of the Chi Ru. He will come for it when he is ready."

"You are not doing this alone. You will need my chi, and with good reason. I learned something about all the deaths, and possibly why you keep getting weaker every time." Peter took his father's arms in his hands, the brands hidden in the sleeves of his silk crane shirt. "A couple of the men that were murdered were the same age as your father accept for Lai Pei and two others. The older men had taken the brands. Two of the men each had a scar on their left arm, but no brands, including Lai Pei. I think you were feeling the death of our fellow priests because of these, because of the brands. And you felt it more strongly because you are a Shambhala Master. Am I right?"

Hearing the news Caine became paler, but did not answer Peter's question. 'All of them? It cannot be. I am the only one who is left.' Instead he asked one of his own to be certain that he heard Peter correctly and to divert his attention. "Are you certain they were Shaolin?"

"I read the police reports. I saw the images. The only one who did not have the brands was Lai Pei and two others. He was your friend. He couldn't have taken the brands because they banned the practice here in China, soon after the temples were being raided and destroyed."

"Lai Pei's widow told me."

"By the time they had, you and Matthew were gone. There were no temples in China any more when the temple in California was built. The monks and priests were trying to preserve a way of life in secret. So long as the temple survived the Shaolin survived."

"So long as there is one Shaolin, the temple would survive because we are the temple," Caine replied.

"I can't let you do this alone. I am Shaolin, too. You need me. And we are stronger together than apart."

Caine smiled at his son, "I am pleased, my son. And I am glad you are with me."

"We still have to tell Captain Tong," Peter stated, and slipped the letter in his own pouch. "You know he is way in over his head. He can't handle a Chi Ru Master. He's not going to like what we have to say."

"Handle what? And what will I not like?" Captain Tong said.

Both Shaolin looked in his direction. Caine picked up the blood stained envelope that was hidden from view. He palmed the ring and placed it in his pouch. Without saying a word, Caine gave his son a slight nod.

Peter then turned toward the police Captain and said, "We need to talk."

Continues with Part 18


	19. Part 18

The Fifth Degree

Part 18

After killing his father Chung Kwai remained at the hotel observing his enemy. He certainly did not behave like a Shambhala Master, allowing his own feelings to cloud his judgement. He watched Caine and the young man that was with him.

'So, that is my second cousin. He does not look like much,' he thought to himself, and yet there was something about the young man that made him uneasy.

Chung Kwai tried to focus on what the young man was saying, but did not want to draw attention to the fact that he was eavesdropping. It would not bode well, and he was not ready to confront the Shaolin soon after killing. The energy drain would be too much on his system. He wanted to be certain that he was at full strength when he confronted the Shambhala Master. He continued to watch the pair when Captain Tong crossed the lobby to stand beside his cousins.

Chung Kwai observed that the younger of the two slipped a letter into a brown pouch at his side. The father took the blood-stained envelope and also hit it from view.

'Hiding something from the Police?' he thought. 'I wonder what is written in that letter. I must see it. Perhaps your son might give me some answers.'

Chung Kwai dialed a number. 'Take Peter Caine tonight.'

"It's too soon."

"I don't intend any harm to him, yet. He has something that I want."

"Very well."

Chung Kwai hung up the phone and walked toward the front entrance to the hotel. For a brief moment, he stopped, allowing his presence to be felt, just briefly. Both Shaolin looked in his direction while the Police Captain shivered. Chung Kwai smiled at the police chief's nervousness. It wouldn't take much to really spook this guy, but it was all he would allow for now. There would be another time when both Shaolin will get to know this particular Chi Ru Master.

Both Peter and Caine looked toward the entrance of the hotel.

*He is here,* Caine said.

*I know.*

"What are you two looking at?" Captain Tong swiftly turned to where the Shaolin were looking, but he saw nothing.

"Nothing," Peter replied. "Just thinking what our next move will be."

"Your next move is to stay here. I'm making this report. Only, you know something. What is it that I can't handle?"

Both Shaolin remained silent.

"This is not the place to talk," Peter stated. "And you won't believe me if I told you. Come on, Pop. We need to tell Grandfather."

"We are going to need to perform the proper ceremonies," Caine reminded Peter.

"You're right."

"I thought you wanted to talk." Captain Tong insisted.

"We will, but not right now. Not here."

"I don't understand you, Caine," Tong argued. "First you say you want to talk, then you change your mind. You know something, you've got to tell me."

"What I have to do is take care of my father. His Uncle was just murdered."

"Uncle. That's a hot one. That old coot? I didn't believe for one minute that he's your father's uncle."

"Yes, Uncle. He spoke the truth back in the States. He was my father's Uncle. And that made him a Caine. Chung Wang Caine."

"Next thing you're going to tell me that your great-grandfather is alive and some person with mystical powers is behind all of these murders."

"Do not speak light of this, Captain Tong," Peter fired back. "You do not know what you are dealing with."

"I don't believe that someone is using Qi Gong to kill. That's impossible. Eventually, this guy will slip up and he'll leave a calling card. They always do. As a cop you know that."

"He's been leaving a calling card every time," Peter stated in a matter of fact manner. "If you would stop and pay attention, you would have seen it."

"And what calling card is that?"

"Ask Detective Jackie Chan. He's seen the evidence. He's viewed the reports. He's seen the pattern."

"I don't discuss cases with subordinates.

"Where I come from, the Captain assigns the cases. It's the Detective who investigates and reports them to his or her superiors. Seems a lot of your detectives are so busy filing your paperwork that you haven't even bothered to go over any of the evidence. No wonder this case hasn't been solved."

"You have no right to speak to me this way. You are here as a courtesy."

"Seems to me I remember a certain police Commissioner who wants us here and wants us to stop this killer. Excuse me while I take care of my father and get our bags from our room. Looks like we'll require another place to stay."

With those last words, Peter helped his father rise and led him toward the front desk to acquire another room.

Continues with Part 19


	20. Part 19

The Fifth Degree

Part 19

Peter took his father up to the hotel registration and learned that the Police had already given them another room. Though the idea appealed to him to take his father up to their new room so he could rest, another idea occurred to him.

"Could you tell me where the nearest Buddhist temple is," Peter asked. "And do you have a back door to this place?"

As the hotel manager handed Peter the keys to their new room he stated, "The Buddhist temple is four blocks north. And the back hallway is off the elevators to your left. You will see a row of phones."

"Thanks."

Peter led his father through the lobby and first went to the nearest elevator. He was aware that Captain Tong was watching them leave, so he had to make certain that he saw them get on the elevator.

Once on, they road the elevator to the top floor, got off, but then got on another going back down.

"You are trying to avoid a tail?" Caine asked his son.

"You might say that."

"Captain Tong will be persistent."

"I know, but you and I have to talk first. I don't like the way you're looking, Pop. And I don't think staying in a hotel room is going to be conducive to your health. Also, you haven't been fully honest with me. There is something about these deaths that have caused you to go weak. I want to know what it is. You didn't answer my question."

Caine did not respond to his son but stated instead, "We are still being tailed."

"I know."

Peter went down the hall as if to head to the new room. In this particular part of the building, the hallway turned and entered into another corridor, this one attached to an older portion of the building. There were also several more intersecting hallways. It was difficult to know just which one he needed to take, until he spotted the sign pointing to the stairwell. The most obvious thing was to head back down then out another entrance, but Peter instead headed to the roof. It would be the least expected thing he could think of. In this portion of the city, many of the buildings were connected at odd angles and at strange intersections. Connecting walls made walkways in the most unusual place. With the varying heights of rooftops, it was easy to dodge anyone following them. Once they reached the roof, Peter hesitated.

"I don't know which way the temple was. I've lost my orientation."

"You must go north," Caine stated. "Do you not recognize that roof over there in the distance?"

Peter turned to see a raised roof similar to the roof structure from their temple home.

"Got it."

They stayed well away from the edge of the roof that followed the line of the street. They did not want to be spotted from someone down below. For the moment, they believed they lost their tail, but someone else was watching them.

Once Father and Son made it to the temple's outer wall, both Shaolin searched for a way down. They found it via a large Ginko tree that had grown up close to the wall within the garden. However, it hadn't gone unnoticed as they climbed down.

"Why do you invade our garden?"

"Sorry, we aren't thieves. We just need to avoid someone. My father needs a place to rest."

"You are welcome in the temple but we have no place for someone to rest, only meditate. The temple has no housing."

"Isn't this a monastery?" Peter asked.

"It is a place of worship, nothing more."

"Peter, it will do. We have yet to perform the proper ceremonies for my Uncle. It will give me time to replenish my qi."

"And it will also give you time to finish our conversation. Why are these deaths weakening you so much? Is it because you're a Shambhala Master? You should not be weakened by this."

The monk's eyes became wide from listening to the two men speak. "You are Shaolin?"

"We are," Peter stated.

The monk however was doubtful with regards to Peter. "Only someone who is of full Chinese birth is allowed to become Shaolin."

"My grandfather was not fully Chinese and he became Shaolin. There is a first for everything," Caine replied.

"Let us not speak of these things in the open. It is dangerous."

"Dangerous for whom?" Peter questioned.

"The government is still suspicious of the old ways. We are not allowed to practice certain aspects of our faith."

"You mean the branding," Peter interjected.

"That is one such practice. Come, we will talk more inside."

Continues with Part 20


	21. Part 20

The Fifth Degree

Part 20

"You know of the branding?" asked the monk.

"My name's Peter Caine and this is my father, Kwai Chang Caine." Peter stretched out his hand inviting the handshake. 'If you're going to be helping us we may as well introduce ourselves."

The monk hesitated then took Peter's hand. "My name is Kong Tiao-wei. As I said, you know of the branding?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"We are taught that the branding was a cruel practice, that the ones who were branded were forced. Their arms were pressed against hot burning metal by others to keep them from moving."

"That is not what was done." Caine replied. "Those who enter the temple go through more than just training in gung fu. The disciple is learning to be a priest. When training and education is complete, they have earned the right to take the brands. Not all succeed or choose to. It is the choice of the disciple the moment he enters the temple. Once the brands are taken, that new priest can choose to go out into the community aiding those in need or he can remain with the temple to teach and pass on what he has learned."

"You make it sound so appealing," Tiao responded. "To be Shaolin and not just a simple monk . . ."

"A Shaolin does not seek ambition. A Shaolin is also a simple monk first and foremost."

"My Pop speaks the truth, but I come from a different direction," Peter said.

"You speak as if you are Shaolin."

Without another word both father and son each lifted up a sleeve revealing the brands. The young monk before them took in a breath. "But you do not wear the robes of a priest."

"We're not that kind of priest," Peter shrugged.

Peter was suddenly aware of his father swaying. "Come on, Pop. You need to rest. All that climbing took some of your energy out of you. Do you have any place where my dad can rest?"

The young monk was silent at first, "Come with me."

The young monk led them down a path and approached a small grove of bamboo. The grove screened a wall and stood out about six feet, wide enough to conceal, but narrow enough to be decorative. Looking around, he moved the bamboo partially aside to reveal a small space where there was enough room for at least three or four people to stand. The amount of bamboo that concealed this space was deceptive.

"Interesting. Is that black bamboo?"

"Yes, it helps to screen the space. The outer ring of bamboo is green. Among the green there is also red and blue. Against the black it gives the appearance that the grove is solid."

"Does everyone know about this space?"

"No. The rest of my brethren do not come into the garden."

"Why?"

"No one else is interested in keeping the garden."

"There are many herbs here," Caine stated. "Many which could be beneficial to the community."

"We are not Shaolin. Many do not know what the plants are for." The young monk then pulled out a key and approached a small door that had been hidden from view.

"I discovered this place one day when some soldiers came looking for traitors to the Chinese government a few years ago. They were not kind to the monks. I hid in the grove. One of the monks died from the injuries that he received. We could not protect ourselves."

The young monk led them through a door that entered into a dark corridor.

"We're inside the wall," Peter observed.

"Peter," Caine said to his son without saying anything else.

With his chi, Peter lit a nearby ancient torch.

"So this temple used to be a monastery at one time. This feels like an hold hallway that led to other parts, like living quarters."

"The main temple for worship remains, but the living quarters were boarded up. Other parts of the temple were divided and the land sold. The garden survived because it was part of the main temple, along with the wall that surrounds it."

"Where did you find the key to this place?"

"I found it among some papers that belonged to the old monk who died five years ago. It was a very old key and I did not know that it belonged to the door until six months ago. I kept it in my pocket."

"Sort of like a good luck charm?" Peter asked.

"I do not believe in luck, but I had a feeling it would come in handy some day."

"Where can my father rest?" Peter asked, getting back to the conversation.

"Over this way."

As they followed the young monk down the hallway, Peter lit what torches he could see. It wasn't long when the monk led them to what looked like an alcove. There were several items including a low futon with a quilted mattress along with a round pillow.

"Looks like this place has been used before."

The young monk didn't respond but instead assisted Peter in lowering his father down to rest.

"Pop, I'm going back to the hotel. I still want to talk to Captain Tong, but I wanted to make certain you had time to recover from whatever is causing your qi to be drained."

"Be careful, my son. Chung Kwai is out there."

"You know me. Careful is my middle name."

"I thought it was trouble," Caine said, giving his son a crooked grin.

"That too." Peter gave his father a kiss on the forehead."

"I'll show you the way out," said Tiao.

Continues with Part 21


	22. Chapter 22

The Fifth Degree

Part 21

Once Peter had left with Tiao-wei, Kwai Chang Caine sank onto the cot exhausted. He no longer had to pretend that he was all right. It wasn't easy trying to hide from his son just how weak he had become. Sooner or later, he was going to have to face the truth. In the torch-lit space Caine pondered his position. His son was correct. He was not strong enough to face Chung Kwai alone, and there was one other reason for the Shambhala Master's weakness.

Caine lifted the left sleeve of his shirt and gazed at the brand of the dragon on his forearm. The brand had nearly obliterated the older scar that was hidden there, a scar that was identical to the one on Lai Pei's left arm; including two others who had also been murdered by the Chi Ru Master. It was that scar that linked him to the others more than the fact they were his Shaolin brothers.

Caine remembered the day he received that scar. It had been a month before the soldiers came. They had been friends, unique and extraordinary in their abilities and insight, the pride of the temple. They were its future. They were wise beyond their years, but as children they believed they would be together forever.

Then Lee Fong came into their hiding place with some news. "I heard that the soldiers are planning on attacking the temple."

A cacophony of voices resounded.

"What, how do you know?" Lai Pei answered.

"It can not be true," Kwai Chang replied.

"They would not dare," another responded angrily.

"We must tell the teachers."

"They may not believe us."

"We must do something," Lee Fong argued back.

"What can we do, we're just children," Lai Pei responded sarcastically.

"I heard they were planning on killing the priests and taking us away," Lee Fong continued. "And there is something we can do. If they separate us, we can still be together and remember."

"How?"

Lee Fong pulled out the dragon knife from his sleeve.

"What are you going to do with that?"

'If the priests catch you . . ."

"No one is going to catch me. Watch," said Lee Fong, and he ran the knife along his forearm causing a deep cut to well up.

"You're expecting us to cut ourselves? Isn't that a bit drastic?"

"No more drastic than taking the brands."

"Is that all?"

"Actually, I was thinking that we would touch our cuts to each other, letting our blood mingle. In that way we will be blood brothers, even if they separate us."

"I have not heard of such a thing," Lai Pei answered.

"I have," Kwai Chang answered, his eyes fixed on the bleeding cut on Lee Fong's arm. "I read it in one of my father's old books. It was an old story of a white man and an Indian. They each made a cut on their palm and then they grabbed the other's hand to mix the blood, creating an unbreakable bond."

"It's too late to cut my hand," Lee Fong observed. 'But maybe this would have more significance because we are being trained as Shaolin. It's the forearms that are branded. And even if we succeed in becoming Shaolin, the brand will hide the scar."

"Then we must do it."

"What if the soldiers don't come?"

"What if it's not true?"

"What if it is true, and we never see each other, again?" Lee Fong threw out the question for everyone to ponder. "That is why we must do it. And hurry up, my arm is starting to hurt."

All the boys grew silent then agreed by nodding their heads. Without another word, the boys cut their left forearms and the ceremony began. Each in turn touched the other, swearing an oath. When it came time for Kwai Chang Caine to touch his arm to each of the other boys, all he could remember of the event was being overwhelmed with a feeling of sudden pain, anguish, and darkness. It was a lightning quick flash, but he remembered that he felt it for every one of his friends that day. Without realizing it, Kwai Chang Caine was given a vision of the future, the vision of impending doom for each boy, including him. The blood tie he had taken that day with those special friends was going to seal his fate, and there was nothing that Kwai Chang Caine could do to stop it.

"There is a way to stop it, but it will mean going to the brink of death," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Who . . ."

"Do you not know, grasshopper?"

"Master Po?"

"You must cultivate the Qi to be as strong as iron, to flow as water, to be as clear as the air, to be renewing as the earth, and as cleansing as fire."

"There is no time. Chung Kwai will strike before I have even mastered such skill."

"You must Grasshopper," Po stated. "Or all will be lost, including your son."

Continues With Part 22


	23. Chapter 23

The Fifth Degree

Part 22

After leaving his father, Peter went back the way that he came, making certain that he wasn't followed. He was just about to enter the hotel from the roof when he felt a presence behind him. He whirled around trying to see who it might be, but no one was there.

'I must be getting jumpy,' he thought, 'It's all this shadow assassin business.' As he turned back to the door, a needle was jammed into the back of his neck, and the liquid it contained was quickly injected into his system.

"Good night sweet prince," the unknown assailant stated sarcastically.

Peter tried to react to the attack, but slumped to the ground as the sedative quickly took affect. When he came to, he was nowhere near the hotel or the temple. At first he didn't even know where he was until he got a glimpse of something familiar. A frown formed on his brow when he realized he was in the apartment of the Emperor.

"This can't be," he said.

"It is true. This is where the Emperor used to live."

"And who are you?" Peter questioned.

"Don't you recognize me?"

The man stepped out of the shadows and Peter nearly blanched. The man before him was the spitting image of his father, except around the eyes. They burned with a coldness that his father's never did.

"Why am I here?" Peter asked.

"I wanted to meet you and you have something that I want."

"What could I possibly have that you want, Chung Kwai?"

"The letter. I want to confirm what the old man said, that we are related."

"You should look in the mirror," Peter said sarcastically. "That should be all the proof you need." Peter felt his chest tighten.

"Don't get sarcastic with me. I want that letter."

"You'll get nothing from me, Darth."

"You can either co-operate or you can die. It means nothing to me. Either way, I get what I want."

"You cold hearted son of a . . ." Peter suddenly felt his throat constrict, cutting off his words, and his breathing.

"Now that's not nice. A priest should never swear."

Peter collapsed on the floor, breathing in life giving air. His head was pounding from the strain. 'Why did I think I had the ability to take on a Chi Ru Master,' he thought. "How do . . . you know . . . I'm a priest?" Peter asked between gasps.

"I looked at your forearms earlier. I was not aware that they still did that old barbaric practice. The letter, if you please."

Peter hesitated for only a few seconds then reached into the leather pouch at his side. He felt not only the letter, but also a small vial. His father had placed it there, thinking that it could be handy. Maybe he could use it here, but the timing would have to be just right.

"The letter," Chung Kwai demanded again.

This time, Peter gave over the letter. He continued to feign weakness, watching Chung Kwai's every move. Finally, when Chung Kwai was distracted, Peter rose to his feet and pulled out the vial.

"You'll never find my father or me," Peter stated. He then backed up and poured a generous portion of what appeared to be dust from the vial. It enveloped him in a smoky mist, causing Peter to vanish.

"No!" Chung Kwai responded. "You will not escape me that easily, Priest."

Peter tried to remain as still has possible, moving only when he needed to, searching for the way out. He did not know how long the mist would last. He hoped it would last just long enough for him to escape.

"You cannot hide from me. I know of the mist. It will not last forever. And I am a patient man."

Peter tried not to make a sound. Any sound would give his position away. He felt along the wall and brushed up against some curtains. He slipped through them, trying not to disturb the fabric too much, but it was not enough.

"There you are."

Peter felt the curtains part, revealing his hiding place. The mist was gone. He didn't get very far when he felt his lungs begin to burn. Peter stumbled over something in the darkened hall. He fell to his knees trying to bring in as much life giving air as he could, but it was no use. He tried to use his chi to block Chung Kwai's, but the Chi Ru Master's chi was too powerful.

*Pop, you've . . . got to stop . . . Chung Kwai*

Peter barely had time to focus his thoughts on his father, when the blackness claimed him.

Continues with Part 23


	24. Chapter 24

The Fifth Degree

Part 23

Kwai Chang Caine was aware of his son's distress, but he was not able to do anything about it in his weakened condition. If only he could get the necessary herbs from Shambhala to regain what qi he had lost. The words of Master Po were well and good, but it would take him several weeks at this stage to even cultivate such power. Chung Kwai wasn't about to wait for him to do that, and Peter could be dead before then.

Caine tossed and turned, as sobbing breaths escaped his lips. "I must . . . go to . . . my son."

He tried to rise, but strong young arms held him down.

"You must rest," the young monk said. It was Kong Tiao-wei. "I have brought you something to eat."

"My son . . . is in danger," Caine stated. "And I cannot help him. You must . . . help me." Caine gripped the young man's hands in his.

"I am but a simple monk. What can I do?"

"You can send a message. Do you have a computer?" Caine pulled from his pouch a small notebook. "My son insisted I keep this for emergencies."

"I can send a message, but you must eat something," said Kong Tiao-wei.

Caine weakly flipped through the pages, and though the light given off from the torches was dim, he found the page he sought.

"Please send a message to this man," Caine pointed to the name. "Tell him . . . tell him that I need the Ancient . . . and the herbs from the Temple of the Great Eastern Sun. Tell him where I can be found. He will know what to do."

"Very well, I will do as you ask, but I do not know if my message will get through. The government monitors all transmissions sent by computer."

"You must find a way, or my son will die."

"I will do as you ask."

Caine watched Tiao-wei faded into the darkness then struggled to sit. It wasn't until he could no longer see the young monk did he smell the food that Kong had provided. He looked down to see a small bowl of rice and some vegetables. It was just what his tired body needed to nourish his system. Caine picked up the bowl and chopsticks and ravenously attacked the rice. It was quickly gone. He did the same thing with the vegetables. When he was done, he found he was still hungry. He then saw that Tiao-wei had also provided a pot of tea. This finished out his meal nicely.

Once his meal was done, Caine pulled his legs into a lotus position to prepare to meditate. Cultivating the amount of qi that Master Po had indicated was going to take extreme concentration. He would have to dig deeply and draw upon whatever resources he could find. When he thought about it, this place was not going to do it for him. He was going to need to draw upon the five elements, and that would mean leaving the safety of this hidden place. He would have to exit to the temple's garden. There he would be able to draw upon nature's elements more easily.

Caine drew in a deep breath, taking it in as he would any other, but this time drawing further into himself. With each breath he took, he could feel some of his qi being restored, but not nearly enough. The energy required to defeat Chung Kwai, he knew was going to be extensive. For now, he needed just enough to keep on his feet so he could reach the garden. After that, only time would tell, but Kwai Chang Caine had little time to spare.

As he rose to his feet, unsteady, but standing, Caine staggered down the torch lit corridor to where the entrance was to this place. He nearly toppled over at one time, slamming his body into the wall, but he soon made it to the exit. He found the hidden mechanism, pushed the door open, then stepped into the grove of bamboo. It was dark outside and the garden was filled with the sound of crickets. Caine nearly stumbled as he exited, but remained on his feet. He needed to sit in the open where the moonlight bathed the garden in its reflective rays. He peered through the stalks of the bamboo and spied an area where a statue of Buddha was bathed in moonlight. The statue was not made of stone, but worked bronze. The pedestal it sat on was made of carved marble. Flowers grew at the foot of the statue. A small fountain was nearly, its water trickling down the smooth river stones, creating a tranquil sound like a small brook. It was a perfect spot for meditation. It was a perfect spot to cultivate his qi.

Caine made his way across the garden and nearly fell as he reached the statue. He slowly pulled his legs into a full lotus then rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows to expose the brands on his arms. He then closed his eyes and set his mind and spirit to meditation. The only way he would know if his qi was restored enough would be if he reached the level of meditation as he had in his own kwoon and meditation room. He would need to pull the qi from all five elements at the same time. His body would lift from the ground achieving such a level that he would be one with heaven and earth. Without that level, he would not be able to defeat Chung Kwai.

Caine did his best to clear his mind of all distracting thought and began the meditation. He could sense the qi force all around him. The qi of the air filled his lungs as he breathed deeply. The fragrant flowers and earthy smell of the soil lent him their strength. He tasted the mineral rich water as a stray drop splashed on his lips, but the light reflected from the moon gave no warmth. The element of fire to complete the circle was not present. No matter, he would have to make do with what he had. He hoped it would be enough. As Caine began to absorb what he could gather warmth bathed his face. He opened his eyes to see the young monk Kong Tiao-wei standing in front of him. He held a torch in his hand. The flames danced, giving off light and warmth.

"I have sent the message," Kong Tiao-wei stated.

"Thank you."

"I will leave you to your meditation."

Caine watched the young monk turn to leave then spoke to him with urgency. "Please, may I have the torch? I will have need of it."

"Of course. I do not know why there is no torch here already. It is customary that the statue be lit at night.

Caine observed the young monk place the torch in a support hold not far from the statue. It bathed the statue in dancing light, giving the bronze the look of burnished gold. This was the very thing Caine needed to complete the process. Now there was hope and a chance. Caine drew in a breath and once again settled into meditation.

Continues with part 24


	25. Chapter 25

The Fifth Degree

Part 24

Captain Tong was livid. The two priests were missing. He had gone up to their new room to discuss the situation and to talk privately with Peter Caine on a matter of importance. When he didn't receive an answer to his knocking, he thought something had happened, so he asked the manager to use his passkey. The room was empty except for the two bags by the door. Now he was regretting more than ever bringing the priests here from America.

"One of them is dead and the other two are gone,' he told the Commissioner.

"Are you certain?" Commissioner Lee questioned his police Captain.

"They were there when the old Monk Chung Wang was found dead. They may have even had something to do with it."

"Peter Caine was here and you told me that Kwai Chang Caine went to see the family of Lai Pei. They could not have anything to do with the murder of Chung Wang. Did Peter Caine tell you anything?"

"No, he did not. He knows something, that much is certain. Now he is gone."

"Perhaps your murderer got wind of it and took them hostage?" Detective Chan stepped in.

"Who asked you Detective. You haven't even been out to the scene."

"You are the primary on this case, Captain. I have only filled out the paperwork and seen to what evidence has come in. Perhaps a fresh perspective is what's needed."

"Perhaps Detective Chan is correct," Commissioner Lee stated.

"Well I don't agree. You are not experienced enough to deal with this kind of case," Captain Tong argued.

"I have ten years experience on the force. If you look at my record, you will see that my previous Captain would disagree with you."

"No detective should go out on homicide duty without at least 12 years of experience."

"My Captain sent me out on homicide investigations soon after graduating from the academy. He sent me with an older more experienced Detective. I learned from the best. I was investigating homicides in my precinct district before I was transferred here."

"What precinct did you come from?" Captain Tong asked.

"I was assigned to the 101st precinct in Hong Kong. I was assigned here when this precinct was short on officers, homicide officers. I know how to investigate a homicide."

"One maybe, but not a serial killer," Captain Tong argued.

"I investigated two serial killings in Hong Kong, and several homicides," stated Detective Chan. 'I was assigned here six months ago and have yet to investigate one homicide."

"Gentleman, please," Commissioner Lee interjected. "I was not aware of this fact. Captain Tong, you will remedy this situation. Any Detective under your command with that much experience needs to be assigned active investigative duty out on the street. Tell me Detective Chan, did Peter Caine tell you anything of importance that will help us solve this case?"

"Peter Caine was very helpful in establishing a link between the murders, sir. He found that five of the men were Shaolin or had attended a Shaolin temple when they were young, including the most recent. Forensics recorded there was matching scars. Only a few of them had brands, but no apparent relation to how each person was killed."

"They were Shaolin? Why didn't you bring this information to me, Detective?"

"I had strict orders not to leave the precinct. I was told that I was to record whatever I found in the files and report to you when you returned. I read those files until my eyes could no longer focus. It was Peter Caine who found the link. I am certain he would have been the one to inform you, but you were busy at the time."

"Don't get smart with me, Detective. I can have you busted down to traffic duty."

"ENOUGH!" the Commissioner yelled. "We are a team. We are supposed to be working together. Not at each other's throats. Captain, you will allow Detective Chan to help more fully with this investigation. Find those two Shaolin, Detective. Captain Tong, you on the other hand will stay behind and file a full report."

"Yes Commissioner," Both men stated together.

"Not only that, I want to look at every unsolved case that came through this precinct's door. From what I hear, there may have been quite a few, Captain. You have a lot to answer for if I find that cases that were supposed to be solved on your watch were not."

Continues with Part 25


	26. Chapter 26

The Fifth Degree

Part 25

Detective Jackie Chan went to the hotel to see if he could find anything related to the case, as well as talk to any possible witnesses. He instructed the manager to take him to the crime scene and to the room the two Shaolin were supposed to be occupying.

In the first one he found the room had been examined by forensics and was now being cleaned by the hotel staff. With the amount of blood that had been spilt even if the room was thoroughly cleaned, it was going to require some things to be replaced.

'Probably only changed the sheets and replaced the top mattress to start with. Looks like the carpeting will have to be replaced. I expect this room will be closed until further notice,' Chan thought. His eyes continued to sweep the room to see if there was something out of place when he spotted a writing tablet just barely peeking out from under one of the beds. It was odd that no one had spotted it earlier. 'Looks like forensics missed something, again. Not surprised that they didn't. They often miss what's in front of their nose. Wish our forensics teams were far better trained.'

That wasn't the first time that Detective Chan expressed that sentiment, but no one seemed willing to put up the money for training. He solved a lot more crimes from finding evidence that forensics had missed. Chan got down on his knees and grabbed the tablet out from under the bed. He could not help but notice there were deep outlines in the surface, as if someone had used the pad lately, but the top sheet was missing. He took the tablet and turned on a side lamp to give him more light in the room. Sure enough someone had used the tablet, but he could not make out what was written.

"Do you have a pencil I can borrow?" he asked the manager who waited patiently by the door.

"There should be one in the desk," he stated.

Detective Chan went to the desk and opened the drawer. "The pencil is missing. Forensics may have taken it for fingerprints. Let's check the other room than I'll deal with this."

Detective Chan followed the manager to another part of the hotel. He checked the second room and confirmed what Captain Tong had said. All he saw were two small traveling bags sitting on the floor near the door. Before dealing with the bags, he moved to the desk and took out the pencil that rested there. He used the pencil and started to lightly rub it across the tablet he held in his hand. Slowly images of letters and words appeared on the page. Then a name appeared near the bottom.

"Chung Kwai?" Chan spoke the name out loud. Chan read the letter a second time, this time more slowly, absorbing every word. The information was very revealing and even staggering. He tore the top sheet off the tablet, folded it, and placed it in his top pocket. But what was more pressing was what the letter had not said that worried Detective Chan. He had to find Peter Caine and stop the next killing. Captain Tong had said there were three Shaolin who would be working on this case, but he had only met Peter Caine. And one of the three was dead. Where was the third?

"If you please, I need to know if they will be returning. I do not want to hold a vacant room if they will not be."

"I do not know,' Chan replied. "I suggest you hold their bags at the front desk until they return. You can always assign them another room."

"Very well. I will send someone up to retrieve them. How much longer will you be?"

"Not much longer."

Detective Chan watched the manager exit the room then bent down to examine the bags. He always kept a small plastic evidence bag with him if he was in any situation that warranted it. He pulled that from his pocket and used it like a glove to go through the traveling bags. The bags looked fine except for one minor detail. There were no passports. He turned back toward the tablet that was resting on the floor next to the bags.

'Looks like you're my only clue. Where would two Shaolin priests go,' he thought. That's what was different about Detective Chan. He got inside the person's mind. In his former precinct in Hong Kong his fellow cops saw him as a loose cannon, taking unnecessary risks. Chan felt that risk was necessary in order to catch the perpetrator.

There were two bags in the hotel room. There had to be a third, but that was missing. Forensics probably had it but he couldn't be certain. After searching both bags but there weren't many clues to distinguish which bag belonged to which person. The only evidence he had were the copy of the letter that had been revealed. Going back to that he tried to let his thoughts answer what questions he had. Who was the nephew? Was it Peter or was it Peter's father? Then an insight hit him. Returning to his original question, he rushed from the hotel room and up the back stairs. There was no time to take the elevator. If his hunches were right, he would know where to find the third. It was a gamble, but he was certain it would pay off.

Detective Chan emerged onto the rooftop of the hotel and gazed out over the city. Looking south he couldn't see much because of the newer structure of the hotel. The portion that he was in was older and connected with other buildings. He looked east then west. Seeing nothing he turned his gaze toward the North. He saw the very thing he had been looking for.

'Jackpot. The old monastery, that's got to be where Peter's Father is.'

Rather then head back inside, Detective Chan ran along the rooftops, heading north to the old monastery. The walls of the buildings were connected, acting like sidewalks in the sky. It wasn't long until he reached the outer walls overlooking a garden. Down below he could see a torch flickering in the darkness, giving light to a statue of Buddha. The statue's back was toward him. Not far from the statue, he saw someone sitting . . . no . . . they were more like hovering. He shook his head to clear the image and looked again. This time the figure was seated on the ground. Detective Chan made his way into the garden shortly after spying a nearby tree. He hoped the man he saw meditating was one of the missing Shaolin.

Continues with Part 26


End file.
